


Hidden agenda

by Ree923



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, BAMF Women, Demons aren’t all bad, Eventual Crossover, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Humor, Murder, Mystery Stories, Pirates, Possessive Mycroft, Protective Custody, Psychic, Romance Novel, Stalker, This story will probably go on forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ree923/pseuds/Ree923
Summary: Marie Watson is a somewhat famous paranormal romance writer, newly moved from the US to the UK. As she settles into her rented gatehouse, she slowly gets involved with her landlords, the  Holmes family, as well as becoming reacquainted with her cousin, Dr. John Watson. But someone has had his eye on her from a distance, and wants to silence her for good. Fortunately, she has an unlikely fan in Mr. Mycroft Holmes.
Relationships: Anthea/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes / original female character, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 88
Kudos: 78





	1. Sudden storm

**Author's Note:**

> This starts out as a simple love story, but there will be mystery, ghosts, and a few guests from Supernatural.

“Are you settled in yet, Marie?” John asked, “It’s not too far from the main house if you need anything.”

Moving to London was something I had always wanted to do. My books were somewhat popular, and I didn’t have anything keeping me in Chicago. Besides, paranormal romance novels could be written anywhere, so why not live somewhere steeped in haunted castles and ancient burial grounds?

“I think it’s perfect, John,” I reassured my cousin, as I put my cell phone on speaker, “everything I was wanting. It’s nice having a fully furnished house to rent, especially when it’s clear the owners have such respect for the history involved.”

My house was actually a gatehouse for a larger manor, but the couple who owned the property had decided to rent out the smaller home. I had never met them, but John knew them and had vouched for me when I explained to him how I’d like to rent a house for awhile until I found a permanent place of my own.

Although, this house was already growing on me, with its small library overlooking a nearby river. In the dim light of dusk, I could almost make out the white gazebo on one side of a charming bridge. The other side had a path leading up to the back door. John’s voice brought me out of my musings.

“I understand that you wanted your own place, but Rosie and I would have loved to have you stay with us.”

My cousin John Watson had been inviting me to visit for years, but I’d been busy trying to prove I could support myself as a writer. I didn’t want to visit London as a tourist, I wanted to live there as a successful author. And after my latest book was optioned for movie rights, I finally felt worthy of renting a home of my own, in a small area north of London that was near enough to the city for visits, but far enough to see the stars off my small balcony. Tonight, there were clouds, but I didn’t think rain was in the forecast.

“Oh I know, but eventually I would have wanted to look for something of my own, and I don’t think I would have found anything close to as nice as this house. Are you sure the rent isn’t too low?”

“The family isn’t hurting for money, Ree,” he laughed, using my childhood nickname. “When they heard my favorite cousin was moving from the States, they insisted you at least look at the gatehouse. Violet Holmes is a force to be reckoned with once she has an idea in her head. You’ll like her. Her husband isn’t as intense, but still very entertaining.” A voice in the background cut through our chat. Something about a seven.

“You do realize I’m not at your beck and call, Sherlock,” John snapped. A pause, then a sigh. “Sorry, Ree. The child calls. I’ll have to see who can watch Rosie.”

“Well, if your friend can wait, I can be by in less than an hour. Unless you’d like to drop her off here? I do have a nursery set up here, though I’m not sure why.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten we’d stayed there a few months ago. We were having our place repainted and Violet insisted a hotel was out of the question. But it’s a bit late for you after spending your day moving into a new home.”

“Nonsense, I’ll be up for hours yet, and I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow. Bring my baby cousin over for a girls' night.”

“Well, if you’re certain it isn’t an imposition,” he said just as his friend loudly was telling him that I’d already agreed and why was he dawdling on the phone.  
Another voice, female and amused, told him to be patient.

“Sherlock seems a bit intense,” I giggled. “He’s right though, stop dawdling and bring me my little cousin.”

John laughed. “We have to go, but our friend Molly is here visiting so she’ll bring Rosie over, if that’s okay? I had wanted to properly introduce you tomorrow at your party. She would have watched Rosie, but she’ll probably be doing the autopsy later.”

“Tell Molly I’ll be watching for her, and I still don’t think I need a welcome party ...but I am happy that I’m having one.” A loud mumbling was heard. I laughed. “Sounds like someone thinks we’re still dawdling. I’ll let you go and we can catch up in the morning when you come for your daughter.”

Hanging up, I went upstairs to make sure the nursery was ready for a guest. Everything was immaculate, but I pulled out an extra blanket just in case Rosie needed it later. I never thought I’d live in a house with a nursery, but it did make it easier for John and Rosie to visit.

Satisfied that the room was in good order, I glanced out of the large bay window and frowned. The wind had been getting louder, and I hadn’t noticed. I wondered if I should go to my cousin’s house, but Molly was probably already on her way. I put on the tea kettle thinking that Molly might need some if the rain hit before she and Rosie arrived.

Smiling to myself, I wondered about John’s life since he’d been involved with the legendary Sherlock Holmes. Most in America were only slightly aware of him, but in my line of work, I tended to follow the careers of crime experts. Sherlock Holmes was fascinating to me. I had toyed with the idea of writing him into my next novel somehow, but doubted he’d be flattered. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t study him. I turned off the kettle, and pulled down two mugs.

A knock at the door startled me, it was too soon to be Molly so I cautiously glanced out the front window. A dark haired woman was frantically texting and looking up at the darkening sky. I opened the door just as the downpour started, and a large thunderclap shook the ground. The woman screamed and I slammed the door.

Cursing under my breath, I yanked the door open and motioned for the drenched woman to come inside. She looked like she was uncomfortable being inside, and I didn’t see a car outside. Only a day in my new home, and I had a little mystery to solve.

“Are you lost? I’m not sure how helpful I can be, I just moved in.”

The woman smirked as she wiped rain from her face. “I’m not lost, I am here to determine your ability to watch Rosie Watson.” At my blank stare, she tilted her head to stare back at me. “You look like Dr. Watson, but there’s something extra there. You seem more interesting.” I continued to stare at her. “My employer sent me over to spy on you. But he’s being ridiculous, and I’m not standing out in the rain looking through windows like a stalker.”

“Your...employer?” I was wondering if there was an asylum missing an inmate.

Another knock, this time from inside the garage, and we both jumped. Rushing over, I opened the door to see a smiling woman holding a sleeping Rosie Watson. The woman walked inside, putting a large diaper bag down on the kitchen table.

“You must be Marie, I’m Molly Hooper. Oh you’re making tea. The winds just came out of nowhere, didn’t it? It’s lucky we could come in through the garage and not get soaked.” She then realized we weren’t alone and glanced at my other guest. “Hello Anthea, is Mycroft here as well?”

“You know each other?” I asked, and Anthea shrugged. I tried again. “Who is Mycroft? And why did he send you to spy on me? Why is he interested in Rosie? And why wouldn’t I be capable of watching my cousin?”

Molly sighed, hands on hips. “Really, Anthea. Mycroft promised he would back off the stalking.” She turned to me, shaking my hand as she shifted Rosie to her other hip. “Sherlock’s brother Mycroft is a bit overprotective of us all, even if he pretends otherwise. We,” she paused, “well, we’ve had a rough year. I’m sure John must have told you.”

“Some. It’s a bit hard to believe it all, but John’s never been one to exaggerate.” I took Rosie from Molly, kissing my cousin’s head. “I’m not sure why Sherlock’s brother would even know Rosie was coming out tonight.” Anthea looked vaguely guilty.

“Please tell me you aren’t still bugging John’s house,” Molly said, exasperated. Anthea hid a smile, “I’ve never bugged Dr. Watson’s home.”

“He really has people monitored? How powerful is this man?” A sudden thought hit me. “This house isn’t monitored, is it?”

“Not on the inside, no.” Anthea took off her coat, and I hung it up in a nearby closet. “Since this is his parents property, he does have the grounds watched. But I’m sure Dr. Watson mentioned that to you before you moved in, it was one of the stipulations of being allowed the rental.”

“Well yes, he said there was a private security guard, but I wasn’t thinking I’d have someone watching me. And how is it I’m safe enough to live near Mycroft’s parents, but he wasn’t sure I could be trusted with my own cousin?”

Anthea looked amused. “Caught on to that, did you?” She leaned in and whispered. “He’s actually a fan of your books, and was hoping to learn more about you without actually coming by himself. But the old man can fess up and come by on his own. I’m not his puppet.”

A loud boom of thunder shook the house, and Anthea jumped again. Molly rubbed her shoulders lightly. “come on now, Thea. It’s just rain.”

“I’m not afraid of rain,” Anthea said roughly, but she looked nervous. “I should be getting back.” Lightning lit up the sky, shadows racing across the dimly lit room.

“I don’t think even you could go back tonight. The roads leading back into the city are flooded. I’ve already told Sherlock I may not get back until tomorrow. Maybe we can stay with the Holmes tonight. They certainly have the room.”

“Don’t be silly,” I found myself saying. “I have three guest rooms upstairs. Pick one out and you,” I said, turning to Anthea, “I’m sure we can find you something dry to change into. I’ll get some snacks together and we’ll get to know each other better.” And I’d find out more about Mycroft Holmes, I thought to myself.

“You mean like a sleepover?” Anthea asked, taking a deep breath.

“A sleepover,” Molly smiled. “That sounds lovely. The case the boys are on doesn’t involve any dead bodies, so I’m most likely not going to be needed.” We looked at Anthea who was watching the sudden storm with something like fear. She yelped when Molly tapped her shoulder. “Anthea, let’s go up and get you into some dry clothes while Marie puts Rosie down for the night.” I left them to sort out their plans, and took Rosie up to the nursery, next to my room. Settling her into the crib, I brushed the hair off of her face and bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

I quickly changed into a T-shirt and sleep shorts, then went back to the nursery to turn on the baby monitor I’d found earlier that day. I took the other monitor with me so I’d hear if Rosie woke up during the storm.

Coming back downstairs, I made a fire in my new study, and went into the kitchen to slice some meat and cheese, placing it on a small platter. Adding some water crackers, I pulled a chilled bottle of wine from my wine fridge, and got three glasses out. Molly walked in, and grabbed the platter.

“Let me help carry this. The fire is lovely. Anthea is already calming down, she simply hates storms. Funny how she’s a dead shot, but a little rain worries her.”

Anthea was warming her hands near the fire. Molly and I put out the wine and snacks, and I put the monitor where I could hear Rosie if needed.

We settled in for a long talk, and at some point, I went for another bottle of wine.  
When I glanced out at the storm from the kitchen window , I could have sworn I saw a black car in the distance, but when I looked again, it was gone.


	2. Introductions

“So how did I not know Sherlock’s brother was the same Mycroft who sent me the rental agreement?” I asked, just a bit tipsy. “I mean, how many men could be named Mycroft? John told me he was trapped with Sherlock and ‘his git of a brother’. I must be losing my touch for not asking his name.”

“To be fair, not many people realize they’re brothers, until you watch them hide their disgusting smoking habit from their Mummy,” Anthea chuckled. “Like two little boys.”

“But the way they bicker, you’d know it right away,” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know who is more childish.”

“I’m sure Mycroft wins that one. Always kidnapping Sherlock’s friends. I know who has my vote,” Anthea sighed, reaching for some grapes I’d brought out.

“Sherlock shoots his wall when he’s bored.”

“Mycroft starts wars when he’s bored.”

“He hasn’t done that in months,” Molly smiled.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” I said, shocked. As they shrugged, I pondered this new information.

“He also decorated this house himself,” Anthea confessed. “He has quite an artistic bent, though he’d never admit it. Completely authentic eighteenth century.”

“He likes my baking too, though Sherlock is forever telling him he’s exploding out of his suits,” Molly said, amused.

“What are they like, really? Besides the quirks.” I leaned back, relaxing into a soft leather recliner.

“Brilliant.” Molly muttered, almost making it sound like an insult.

“Condescending.” Anthea said loudly, thumping her hand on the floor, where she’d decided to sit. She was a bit drunker than I was, but still more coordinated than me. I was trying to sit upright on my chair and failing miserably.

“Amazing.” Molly giggled at the face Anthea made at that comment.

“Maddening.” Anthea said, trying not to laugh.

“Practically perfect in every way,” Molly countered in a sing song voice.

“That’s Mary Poppins,” Anthea accused, almost spitting out her wine.

“Mycroft has the umbrella,” Molly defended herself.

“From everything you’ve both told me about Mycroft Holmes, it doesn’t seem like he’d be a fan of my work,” I frowned. “Shouldn’t a man like that be reading historical warfare things?” I hiccuped, reaching for the second bottle of the night. We wouldn’t be getting drunk with Rosie in the house, but another glass wouldn’t hurt. Molly wasn’t drinking as much as Anthea, and I was only on my second glass. 

“I’ll tell you a something kind of thing,” Anthea whispered. “I’m a little afraid of storms.” Molly and I shared a look and tried not to laugh.

“I would never have guessed,” I said solemnly.

“And I’ll tell you a secret about Mikey. He thinks you’re pretty. That’s the real reason he sent me over here. So I could talk him up to you. But he doesn’t know I know, you know?”

“Are you drunk?” Molly said, waving her hand in front of her friend.

“No. I’m curious.” She turned to me. “You’re Dr. John’s cousin. Is he really as nice as he acts?” Well, that had come out of nowhere. She obviously was trying to ignore the lightning, and be brave.

But my mind was on what she’d said. I doubted Mycroft Holmes thought anyone was pretty. I nibbled on some cheese lost in thought, wondering what he looked like.

“Of course he’s nice,” Molly said, interrupting my musings. She turned to me in expectation. I grinned weakly, wondering if Mycroft had kaleidoscope eyes like his brother.

“John’s nice,” I allowed, deciding not to ask about how Mycroft knew what I looked like. “I haven’t seen him in a few years, but he’s just as lovely as when we’d spend summers together as kids.”

“Tell us a secret about yourself and your cousin, Miss Writer Watson.” Anthea waved her hand at me regally. “Something scandalous I can bring back to my stupid employer.”

“Um, well. Once, when John and I were ten, we saw a man abusing his puppy, so we snuck out that night and stole the poor thing.” I took a gulp of wine. “We ended up telling my dad we found her. He took her to the vet and she was adopted out to a nice family, The jerk who abused her put up posters, and we took them down, and that was that.”

Molly smirked at me. “I think there’s something more about that story. You look guilty.”

I started to deny it, then laughed. “Okay. We may have written a letter to him telling him we knew what a horrible excuse for a human being he was, and how his puppy was happy in her new home. Then, we may have made 100 copies and taped one on each door in a three block radius.”

My two new friends laughed with me, so we almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. I frowned, who would be knocking on my door during a storm? Had Mycroft sent another spy to my home? I slowly got up as Anthea pulled her gun. I glared at her.

“Put that thing away.”

“It could be a burglar,” she whispered loudly. 

“I know you’re all overly polite in the UK, but I’m sure even here, burglars don’t knock,” I whispered back loudly.

“Listen, they may have a gun, and I’d like to shoot them before they shoot us. We do have a baby upstairs to protect. It could be someone with a grudge.”

“Who even knows we’re here? I just moved in.” I asked, throwing my hands in the air.

“What if it’s someone lost in the storm?” Molly went to open the door only to be stopped by Anthea and I shouting “No” at the top of our voice. An answering shout came from outside, and before I knew what was happening, my front door was open, and two men rushed in, guns pointed at us.

“Put your hands above your head,” Sherlock Holmes demanded, looking at me.

“Sherlock, that’s my cousin,” John said, lowering his weapon. “Marie, what’s going on here? Where’s my daughter?”

“Three grown women are getting to know each other. Your daughter is sleeping upstairs in the nursery. Why the hell do you idiots have your guns out? And one of you is fixing that door.”

Sherlock stared at me and I stared back. Molly groaned.

“Please no deductions, we’ve been drinking. And why are you two even here?”

“Case ended up being a three. No clue why I had thought otherwise.” Sherlock lowered his gun to observe me. 

“Hmm, mid forties, single, romantic yet sarcastic when out of her element. Shoplifting as a teen, but still does it for fun when bored. Drives too fast for most people, yet gets lost easily. Waiting for a man to save her from her boring existence.”

John had gone upstairs to check on his daughter, but had come down just as his friend finished. 

“Sherlock, that’s enough.” He sheepishly gave me a hug. “We just thought we’d get Rosie early since the case was over quickly.” He noticed Anthea for the first time. “Should I be concerned that Mycroft’s PA is in the same house as my family?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Doctor. We were just getting acquainted. The boss wanted to make sure Marie had everything she needed here before the rains washed out the road. Speaking of which, how did you two get here? I barely made it myself.”

“That would be me,” a new voice smoothly flowed into the conversation. I glanced over and stared. A man was looking at me with a hint of mischief, yet seemed to be trying hard to be aloof. “Mycroft Holmes. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Watson.”

“I’m happy to meet you as well, Mr. Holmes. Anthea tells me you furnished this gatehouse yourself. It’s very authentic to the eighteenth century.”

“Not many people would know that, Ms. Watson. I thank you for your astute observation.”

I held out my hand, and he grasped it, never taking his eyes off of me. His blue eyes weren’t as spectacular as Sherlock’s, but I was still lost. This was the man John had called the Iceman? I felt a rush of heat, and bit my lower lip. I could see something in his eyes as they seemed to study me. I smiled.

“No,” Sherlock said, bluntly.

“Excuse me?” I tilted my head to look at the detective. “Why aren’t you fixing my door?”

“My family owns this house, I’m not obligated to repair it.”

“Well, as I have a signed rental agreement for the next six months, that door is your family’s obligation to fix. And since you broke it, it seems logical that you be the Holmes to fix it.” He grumbled, but went out to the garage to get tools to fix the lock on my door. Molly followed him, chattering about helping him.

I turned to Mycroft. “The girls and I are going to bed now, we thank you for bringing Rosie’s father to pick her up. Maybe you could come by my party tomorrow night and I could ask you more about this lovely house’s history.”

“I’d be honored, the house is lovelier with such a charming tenant.” Mycroft smiled, and I kissed Rosie goodbye, giving John a hug. Sherlock was glaring at me, having fixed the lock while his brother charmed me.

“Thank you again for watching Rosie, I am sorry we disrupted your evening.”

“No worries John,” I glanced over at Molly and Anthea, inviting them to stay. As they were already dressed for bed, they agreed. Sherlock stormed out, followed by my cousins. The girls went up to the guest rooms, leaving me with Mycroft.

Alone, I lost every intelligent topic of conversation I had in my mind. He took my hand and kissed it gently.

“Until tomorrow night, Ms. Watson.”

“I look forward to seeing you then, Mr. Holmes.”


	3. Complications

After the men left, I walked into my office and decided to start outlining my next book. I couldn’t sleep, too many thoughts were going through my mind. I’d met Sherlock Holmes and could say he held a gun on me. I’d made a couple of new friends, and of course, Mycroft Holmes had made an appearance.

The cool November rains would soon turn to snow if we were lucky. Christmas without snow didn’t seem to have the same magic. I hadn’t had anyone to celebrate the holidays with for the past ten years, since my mom had passed. It would be nice to not be so isolated this year.

Part of me was still worried that this was just a dream, and I’d wake up in my old apartment, dreading getting the mail, wondering if he was watching me leave on my daily errands. I told myself part of being a writer was getting a few overzealous fans. One of mine had decided he has the hero in my latest novel, and embarrassingly, he’d cast me in the role of heroine. He asked how I could have written our romance for everyone to see. He asked a few other questions, but I refused to think about that now. His letters always came in plain grey envelopes with no return address.

The letters I’d been getting back in Chicago hadn’t found their way to England, and I felt sure that whatever sad fan who had been writing them had moved on to another target. To be honest, I was running away from that, but it’s not like it had been more than letters. I’d be fine here. The black car I’d seen was probably just someone heading home. Maybe it had been Mr. and Mrs. Holmes returning from somewhere.

I sat down at the ornate desk near the window. From my vantage point, I could see the gazebo standing still in the darkness. My imagination quickly put an 18th century heroine there, waiting for her partner in espionage. I could see her dark hair naturally highlighted with scarlet tendrils around her face. 

A man appeared, he took her into his arms, kissing her breathlessly as she slid the enemy’s battle plans into his pocket. His sharp blue eyes and wicked smile made her almost lose focus, but she had a job to do. With one last smirk, he disappeared into the night and she made her way back into the party. Let any observers think she had met with a lover. She knew the plans were safely on their way to her superior. If I was imagining Mycroft as my hero, well, that would be my secret.

Reaching over to turn on my desk lamp, I thought I saw movement outside my window, a flash of white. The rain was still coming down, but not as much as earlier, so I hoped Anthea was able to get some sleep. There was probably some kind of animal out there, it would take some time for me to get used to country life. 

I wrote out a bit of outline on paper, giving my story a working title that would be changed after I figured out the plot. The Iceman’s Lady. I blushed, remembering how Mycroft’s lips had felt against my fingers. I wondered why everyone thought he was unreachable and distant. He hadn’t seemed that way to me. In fact, he seemed almost mesmerizing, like a cobra. Dangerous and sexy in a way that could prove my undoing.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Molly asked, walking into the room. “Anthea is passed out already.”

I jumped, trying to look composed and productive shuffling papers.

“Oh, I do my best writing after midnight. Something about the calmness of the night, I guess.” I glanced outside at the gazebo, brilliant blue eyes still in my mind.

Molly sat in one of the elegant chairs opposite my desk and grinned. “It certainly wasn’t calm tonight.”

“Oh I know, I haven’t had a gun pointed at me in years,” I laughed. Molly’s eyebrow rose and I felt like I was under one of her microscopes.

“I meant the part where you started drooling over Mycroft Holmes.” At my look of shock, she giggled. “Why do you think Sherlock was so rude?”

“Because I made him clean his mess?”

“Because you were flirting with Mycroft. The Holmes brothers don’t believe in sentiment, so they say.” 

“Does he think I’m trying to distract his brother from his job or something?”

Molly shrugged, “It’s more like he hates when Mycroft acts like a hypocrite. Telling Sherlock not to care, while showing affection out of some warped sense of humor.”

“You think it was an act? I guess that makes sense, it has been mentioned that the Holmes brothers aren’t romantic. You’ve said it yourself.”

Her eyes had a far away look. “Yes, but I think they are both capable of more. I’ve had feelings for Sherlock and he had to say he loved me, you know, for his sister.” 

I nodded, John had explained most of what had happened to me. He probably didn’t have permission, but he and I were part of a dwindling Watson family. His sister had her own issues, and I doubted I’d see her often. But John and I were more like siblings than cousins. We had few secrets from each other. I said as much to Molly.

“We were honestly surprised to learn John had an American cousin, he doesn’t say much about his family.” 

“Well, Harry is a bit of a handful, he usually focuses on her. But he’s always been there for me.”

“I don’t really know his sister. I suppose he just never thought she’d be interested in meeting his friends.” She glanced at my desk. “Interesting title.”

I grabbed the paper and shoved it into my desk, blushing. “It’s not a final title, I was just planning an outline.”

“Oh, it’s fine. He likes you, we can all see it. But he plays the charming prince when he’s on a case. Or looking for information from someone. I don’t think he’s ever been in a real relationship. Maybe you could thaw him out.”

“Of course she can,” Anthea said, dropping into the other chair near my desk. “He didn’t have to bring the boys here, they’re more than capable. He wanted to check you out.”

“To see if I was capable of watching Rosie?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Well, I had to say something. I couldn’t just say he was interested in a relationship.”

“He doesn’t do relationships,” I reminded her and she scoffed.

“He’s had a few affairs over the years. He may have even liked some of them. That whole ‘caring is not an advantage’ tripe was never about him. He just didn’t want Sherlock getting involved.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “As if that would ever happen.”

“At least you get to work with the man you love,” Anthea froze, realizing what she’d said. 

“Oh, does someone have a crush on my cousin?” I asked folding my hands together on the desk, and leaning forward. Molly blinked.

“You like John Watson? Really. How did I miss that?”

“Probably because you are usually too busy trying to pretend you are over Sherlock,” Anthea teased. “And I’m not in love with John Watson. I just think he’s a puzzle. I happen to enjoy puzzles. And he has asked me out in the past.”

“Then why didn’t you go out with him?” Molly was giving her an odd look.

“I didn’t know him. I didn’t think he was my type.” She was examining her perfectly manicured nails, speaking with an airy offhand tone. She didn’t fool anyone. I’d had enough.

“The three of us are ridiculous, we each are interested in someone, but have no intention of doing anything about it.” I shook my head. “We’re better than this.”

“Hah, you only met yours this evening. You don’t have anything to lose,” Anthea said. “If Molly and I push too hard, we could ruin everything.”

I unclasped my hands and stood up. “It’s a good thing I am here. You two need lessons on man catching.”

“Hold on now,” Anthea argued. “We’ve both had successful relationships.”

“With the men you want?” I asked, watching them share a look. I slammed my hand down on my desk. “That’s what I thought. Let’s get some sleep and start planning our attack in the morning.” I grinned. “Unless you want the three of us to end up living together in our 80s surrounded by cats.”

“I like cats,” Molly spoke up. Anthea laughed so hard she started crying.

“Oh we are so getting you a stuck up, obnoxious detective for Christmas,” she blurted out. I just smiled.

====Mycroft====Marie====Sherlock====Molly====John====Anthea====

The next day was a work day for me, working on my outline while Molly and Anthea went off to their respective jobs. They had both had made plans to get off work early to get ready for my party, and since we’d already met, I suggested we get ready at my house. We’d drive over together to Angelo’s and meet up with the other guests. We exchanged phone numbers, and looked forward to the party.

The postman actually rang my doorbell when he dropped off my mail. I quickly ran to the door to see if anything interesting had arrived. Bringing my pile of letters inside, I flipped through everything. Credit card bill, hmm, can’t hide from those, a letter from Mrs. Holmes welcoming me to the gatehouse, and inviting me to tea later in the week. ‘My dear Marie, email is so impersonal, and I don’t know if you have a cell phone set up for the UK as yet. Please come see me later this week to properly get acquainted. Violet Holmes”

The last letter made me stop smiling and my hands shook. A plain grey envelope. He couldn’t have found me here, it had to be something else. I looked and saw there was no return address. I bit back a gasp, and for a moment, felt a feather light hug. Great, now I was imagining things. 

I remembered all of the stories I’d read about women ignoring messages like this or not telling anyone only to have their pride make them targets for the villain. That would not be me. I went to dial the police, but realized I didn’t have their phone number. 

I called Anthea and asked if she could come over sooner. My voice must have sounded odd, because she said she would arrive in ten minutes. I didn’t get a chance to ask how she’d be able to reach me so soon, the call being disconnected at some point. 

I didn’t open the letter, I didn’t want to think about what it meant. I stared at it on my table like it could bite me. A few minutes later, Anthea was standing in front of me, shaking me out of my fear.

“Tell me,” she said, so I did. How my last book had attracted a fan who wouldn’t reveal himself to me. How I’d gone to the Chicago police only to be told there wasn’t enough evidence to make an arrest. How I’d felt watched since I’d moved into the gatehouse.

“Does John know?” Anthea asked, her voice gentle. 

“N-no,” I stammered. “He’s been through so much, his wife died, he almost died. I couldn’t add to his stress.”

“He’s going to find out, he and Sherlock always do. Where is it?” I pointed to the letter, She took it and put it in her purse. “I’ll have someone look at this, but you’re going to have to tell John. Otherwise, this will get really ugly. You don’t want those two jumping into this without the facts.”

I bit my lip, she was right. I picked up my cell and called my cousin.


	4. Discoveries

“John, it’s Marie. Listen, could you come over alone? I mean, without Sherlock. I need to talk to you, and I know he’ll be annoying and I can’t deal with that right now.” I was babbling as Anthea scanned my fingerprints into her phone. We had to eliminate my prints from whoever had touched my letter. 

“What’s going on? Are you in some sort of trouble?” I could hear him getting Rosie ready, telling her they were coming to see me. Anthea was pulling on latex gloves and scanning the letter now, muttering under her breath about getting a security detail for me.

“I’d rather not discuss it on the phone, but I’m not in danger or anything. I just need to talk with you.” I watched Anthea work, wondering just what her job with Mycroft entailed. She carefully put the letter into one clear plastic bag, and the envelope into another, placing both into a briefcase I hadn’t noticed her arrive with earlier.

“All right, we’re on our way.” John sounded worried, and I felt horrible bringing this into his life. This was supposed to be a new start for me.

After hanging up, I watched as Anthea sent off a text message. She glanced up at me and smiled. “All right, that’s all sorted for now. Our technicians will get what they can from this and we’ll figure out our next move.”

“Shouldn’t we contact the police?”

“You said yourself that the cops won’t be able to do anything without hard evidence. Let’s see what we can do before getting them involved. If we need the authorities, we have contacts at the Yard.” Well that did sound reasonable. I felt that same light hug from earlier, but I wasn’t afraid. It felt safe. I closed my eyes and let myself take a deep breath. Someone was here with us, someone protective. A name came to me, Abigail.

“Marie? Are you all right? You seem to have zoned out on me.”

“What? No, I’m sorry. Just wool gathering, as my grandmother used to say.” Smiling, I stood up and headed towards the kitchen to make tea. Anthea went to the front door and let another man inside. Dark suit, black hair cut short. He looked like James Bond.

“Marie, this is Carlos, he’ll be our driver tonight.” The man shook my hand briefly then took the briefcase out to the car. Anthea explained that he would take us anywhere we needed to go tonight , then be available to me as needed since I didn’t have my own vehicle.

“I don’t think I need a driver,” I said confused.”I can Uber or something.”

Anthea looked at me as if I was a child. “Marie, you’re receiving anonymous letters from someone who figured out where you live after you’ve only moved in yesterday. The letter looks like it was mailed before you even moved into the house. Whether or not this person is dangerous, we have protocols in place.”

“I should move to a hotel or something, I can’t have the Holmes in any danger over me.”

“If he found you here, he’ll find you there.”

“But I would be safe in a good hotel.”

“No, the safest place for you is still the estate. Especially when I’m moving in with you for protection.”

“You’re what?” John and I said at the same time. I gave my cousin a little wave, and hugged myself as he stood just outside the front door with Rosie.

“Good, you’re here without the man child,” Anthea smirked. “Come inside so I won’t have to repeat myself.”

“Marie, what’s going on?”

“Come into the house and we’ll explain it all to you,” Anthea said. 

************Marie********

John sat on my sofa holding Rosie and not speaking. Anthea and I shared a look and she waved a hand over his face.

“Woo hoo, you aren’t in a bloody mind palace, are you?”

“Marie, you’re moving in with me and Rosie.”

“What? No, I’m moving to a hotel.” I didn’t want to go, but how could I stay knowing that there was someone out there stalking me?

“Okay, you two aren’t listening. I’m going to be staying here with Marie and she’ll be perfectly safe. This person has never done anything except send letters, so he’s still in an infatuation stage. If we move Marie, he’ll see it as a threat. We can’t know what that means.”

Ok, I hadn’t thought of it like that. If this guy got violent not knowing where I was, he could hurt a lot of innocent people at a hotel. I shuddered.

John seemed to deflate. “I can see the logic, I don’t like it, but it’s sensible. For now anyway. But how did this person get Marie’s address?”

“Obviously he has been following her,” a new voice spoke up. Sherlock stood there staring at me. Damn it, I wasn’t ready for this.

“Just how long have you been standing there and how did you even get in? I locked that door behind me.” I needed a drink.

He held up a key. “When I replaced the lock, it came with a key.”

I looked at him with murder in my gaze. “And it didn’t occur to you that I might need a key to my own home?”

“It’s not your home, and you’re moving to a hotel, remember?” Was that a smirk? Did Sherlock Holmes just smirk at me? I felt my blood pressure rise.

“I’m staying here, I feel safe here.” I realized that it was true. I did feel safe in this house. There was a presence here that calmed me. I’d have to ask Mycroft if there were any ghost stories or legends about the house. Mycroft. I needed him here, but had no idea why. I bit my lip, wishing for something I didn’t understand.

Sherlock stared at me with a puzzled expression then blinked. “It’s already too late,” he mused to himself. Before I could ask what he meant, Sherlock had turned to Anthea, demanding the letter I’d given her. She snorted in laughter. I watched with amusement in spite of the situation.

“Already scanned into the database and the actual letter is on it’s way to be looked at by our people. Why don’t you ask your brother for a look?”

The glare he sent her way would have reduced me to giggles if I had any reason to laugh. He pulled himself up to his full height and flipped up the collar on his coat. He must have felt he was intimidating, but to me, he seemed silly.

“It’s no matter, I’m sure there will be another one arriving soon enough.” He turned and walked out of the house, already texting someone as he left.

“All right,” I stood up. “Now if that’s settled, Anthea needs to choose a guest room to stay in, and I have work to do until the party tonight. John, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this.”

He ran a hand through his hair and reached out to hug me. “You’re closer to me than my own sister, always have been. I’m not being dragged into anything. You’re family, and I love you.” My eyes watered as I hugged him back.

“I love you too, Johnny,” I sniffed, trying not to cry. “What do I do?”

He looked over at Anthea who was furiously tapping on her mobile. A soft smile settled on his face as he turned back to me. He hid it, but I saw.

“Well, if you won’t move in with me, I’m going to move myself in with you.” At my shocked look, he laughed. “It just so happens that the Holmes family invites people up for a few weeks of celebration over the holidays. Rosie and I will be up at the main house starting tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll see you at the festivities.”

“I can’t just barge in to family parties, John.”

“Oh you’re already invited. Mrs. Holmes sent you a letter, didn’t she?” Anthea spoke up, eyes never leaving her phone.

“Well, yes, she invited me up to see her once I got settled in,” I answered. I hadn’t thought about it since that other letter came. 

“Right, she’s gonna invite you to all the sparkly shin digs once you’re up at the manor house. Mycroft asked her to, not that she wouldn’t have done it on her own.”

“That...that was nice of him.” When exactly did he ask? One more thing to talk to him about later in the evening.

Anthea’s eyes were twinkling with humor. “Wasn’t it,though?”

***Marie*****Mycroft*****

Molly was due to arrive at four, and it was two now. I left Anthea and John in the sitting room discussing strategies and logistics, and went to my office to try to get some work done before the party. 

After working on my outline for longer than usual,I found my mind wandering to Mycroft. Was he simply being polite asking his mother to invite me to the holiday parties? He hadn’t even met me when he’d asked. 

Sitting at my desk, I admired the intricate pattern carved into the wood. Today’s furniture didn’t have the charm of hand made pieces. My cell phone rang and I was surprised to see an unknown number. It took a few rings before I answered, but the voice on the other end set my worries at ease.

“Ms. Watson, I’ve heard you have had a stressful morning. I apologize for not being there myself, but I trust the loan of Anthea pleases you.”

“Thank you for allowing her to help me sort through this, Mr. Holmes.” I smiled into the phone, sliding right into the teasing formality we’d adopted the night before. Hearing his voice was almost like having him near. Almost. 

“I understand you have been assigned a driver, but I’m calling to request that I come for you myself this evening.” I swallowed hard, picturing him coming for me in quite another way, but kept my voice steady.

“I wouldn’t want you to be inconvenienced.”

“Where you are concerned, I find myself inconvenienced by your absence.” Oh hell. “I would very much like to be your escort for the evening.” 

“I would like that very much, Mr.Holmes.”

“Splendid, I will be at your door promptly at 6 this evening. Dr. Hooper and Anthea can be driven by Carlos. I suppose your cousin may ride with them as well. I’m sure he’d enjoy sharing a ride with my PA...and Dr. Hooper, of course.” Something in his tone seemed amused, but I didn’t dwell on it. I was going to be escorted by Mycroft. My heart seemed to skip.

“That is more than acceptable, Mr. Holmes.” As I hung up, I saw John in my doorway.

“Just what is going on between you and Mycroft Holmes?” His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was trying his best to look stern.

“Nothing yet,” I teased. “But hopefully that changes tonight.” 

Rolling his eyes, he informed me that he’d secured a babysitter for Rosie up at the main house. Violet Holmes had a soft spot for my little cousin, and apparently loved spending time with her.There was a full nursery set up at the larger house as well.

“Just don’t get your hopes up with that man, he’s called the Iceman for a reason.”

“He offered you the use of my driver this evening. Something about how you could share a ride with Anthea….and Molly of course,.” I smiled sweetly.

John’s face took on a strange shade of red, and he ran off saying something about hearing Rosie cry. I shook my head and leaned back, promptly falling out of my chair. Laughing, I reached up to hold onto the desk, and my hand touched a small panel on the underside. Pressing it slowly, a compartment opened, causing a small key to fall into my hand. 

It was a gold antique key, the top of it was shaped like a rose, with tiny silver thorns that went halfway down the key itself. There were tiny cutouts on the part that went into a lock, I couldn’t remember the technical parts of an old key, but vaguely remembered how they worked. This one had a small “A” on the shank. Hmm, for Abigail?

I looked at the desk again to see if there was a hidden keyhole anywhere, but didn’t find anything. I grinned, one more mystery to add to my new home. Sherlock could go jump again for all I cared, this was my home now. 

“Abigail, if you’re listening, I hope everything is ok with you.”

My only answer was a gentle hug, and a slight breeze that blew some of my papers away from the desk. Scrambling to put everything to rights again, my finger caught on the ornate flower pattern on the top of the desk. Looking more closely, I could see what looked to be another panel, almost flush with the rest of the desk. Pushing it gently, the panel sprung back revealing a keyhole.

“Marie?” Molly’s voice rang out from the hallway, “are you going to get ready soon? It’s already 5, I’m sorry I’m late, but Sherlock kept me busy at the morgue with things.” She entered the room and I quickly hid the key in my pocket, closing the keyhole panel. 

“Oh my goodness, I have to get ready, Mycroft is going to be here to pick me up at 6 and I haven’t even picked out what I’m going to wear.” 

“It’s not overly formal at Angelo’s,” Molly said, grinning. “Unless there’s someone you’re trying to impress.” 

“Oh he’s already impressed,” Anthea said, coming out of her room. “He almost smiled at Sherlock earlier.”

“Hello Thea, how long have you been here?”

“Come on up, Molly. I have loads to report.”


	5. Parties and surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie’s party is tonight, and so far all is well....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m adding Supernatural characters because this is all about the paranormal and I love my Winchesters. And Crowley ;)

While Anthea caught Molly up on everything, I took a hot shower. If I planned it out correctly, I should be ready just as Mycroft arrived. I wasn’t young, or model thin, but I knew my strengths. A deep blue swing dress that would swirl around me if I danced later, A bit of dramatic eye makeup and dark red lips. Did Angelo’s have a dance floor? Not sure, but it wouldn’t stop me after a few cocktails.

I walked over to my bedroom window and glanced in the direction of the main house. I wondered if they’d kept Sherlock and Mycroft’s bedrooms the same or turned them into sewing rooms or libraries. I wondered if either of them had done the typical teenage things like sneaking out after curfew, or sneaking someone into the house.

I thought about my own childhood. Mom had tried to keep my life as normal as possible, but with my father being, well, who he was, I was bound to have a bit of strange in me. I wondered if eventually it would be safe to let my new circle of friends know what I was. 

Out in the distance, I thought I saw that same black car, but it must have been my mind playing tricks on me because it was gone a moment later. I didn’t feel threatened by it, so maybe it was just a normal, ordinary car, and not someone stalking me for my dad. I’d been putting off calling him, but if I didn’t do it soon, he’d find a way to make a dramatic entrance into my new life. I grinned, he was incorrigible, but I loved him. Truth be told, I was considering letting him know about my fan issues. Just not yet.

Sighing to myself, I decided against washing my hair since I’d done that when I woke up that morning. I swirled around a few times in my dress and enjoyed feeling pretty. I didn’t get a chance to wear nice dresses often since I’d been busy writing books, and working my day job as a research librarian at a small university back home. Sometimes I did research for friends who were just as interested in the paranormal as I was. 

My friend Dean had hated that I moved to the UK, but John was my cousin, and I had missed him more than I’d realized. My father, on the other hand, had wanted me to find a place in Scotland, where he had a house he’d bought for me years ago. But I didn’t have anyone there, and the path I found myself on seemed right. 

Grabbing a small blue purse that matched my dress, I put the antique key into one of the pockets. I’d show it to Mycroft at some point tonight, and was happy for the distraction. I was trying to not think about the letter, or the person who sent it to me, but part of me was nervous about going out in public. I hadn’t told my dad about it, which made me wonder if he was nearby just to visit, or to take me back home.

I knocked on Anthea’s door, taking a calming breath. No matter what lurked out in the real world, I would be safe here. And I seemed to be surrounded by people who had been through much worse than a few anonymous letters.

“Well, don’t you look amazing,” she said, pulling me into the room. She was dressed in a dark red mini dress with stiletto heels that would cause me to break an ankle. Molly was in a pretty yellow dress and white cardigan. Contrasts in style, but both women looked comfortable in their own fashion choices.

“Thanks, I feel like I’m a teenager waiting for her first date,” I giggled. I looked at Molly, sensing her nervousness. She was pacing the room, muttering under her breath. I stopped her, mid pace, holding her by the shoulders so she’d look at me.

“So, are you ready to begin reeling in your detective?”

“Yes, this has gone on long enough. He’s treating me like I’m going to break if we talk about that damned phone call.”

“Just smack him upside his fool head and snog him,” Anthea suggested, finishing up her makeup. I met her eyes in the large mirror she was using.

“Has that worked on my cousin?” I asked innocently, before turning back to talk to Molly. Anthea was blushing, I’d get the story on that later, but right now, Molly seemed to need a boost of confidence.

“Maybe you need to get him alone, Molly. Social gatherings are fine to loosen men up, but you need somewhere private to go off to if you want to discuss your feelings. I’d love to throw a party here. So many places to hide.” So many secrets too.

“The place does have an antiquated feel about it, like in one of your novels.” Molly looked around with a wistful smile. “I’m sure there are so many little hiding spots.”

“That’s why I love the idea of parties in the early 1800s. People were constantly losing themselves in exotic gardens and hedge mazes.” 

“Well, I’ve never seen the boss actually look forward to a social gathering,” Anthea shrugged. “It’ll be interesting watching him willingly interact with goldfish.” At my puzzled look Molly rolled her eyes and explained.

“Mycroft’s wry pronouncement of people who aren’t at his level of genius”

“Do you think I’m wasting my time, then? I’m hardly a genius.” Great, another insecurity coming to visit me. My father would have admonished me had he heard.

“Marie,” Molly said gently. “Mycroft Holmes hasn’t been around people who care about him for himself in years. He’s bound to have put up defenses against getting too close to others. He’s constantly looking for weaknesses in others to exploit because it’s kept him safe.”

The idea of anyone deliberately hurting Mycroft made my heart clench.

“What’s going through your head, Ms. Watson?” Anthea teased.

“I’m thinking that I’m going to have my hands full if this goes the way I’d like it to with Mr. Holmes,” I mused, pushing the dark thoughts away for now, They laughed, then I noticed they were both grabbing their purses and heading downstairs. 

“Leaving already?” I asked, surprised. Anthea winked.

“Carlos is picking us at at 5:45 exactly. He’s swinging by the main house to get Dr. Watson first.”

“Yep,” Molly said grinning. “You get to be picked up by your Prince Charming without witnesses.” At my indignant glare, they hid knowing smiles. Anthea glanced out the window and nodded to Molly.

“Looks like Carlos is right on time. We’ll see you at Angelo’s, try not to mess up your makeup too much when your date arrives.” They waved and were gone before I had a chance to do more than say goodbye. 

The house seemed a bit lonely after they’d left. It was nice to have friends so soon after moving into a new house. If only that fan would leave me alone. I wondered if it was a man or a woman, if they had harassed anyone else in the past. If I should call my friends back home.

“What do you think, Abigail? Can I really be safe here?” A gentle hug enveloped me, and I held back tears. I’d felt spirits many times over my life, but Abigail was one of the few that seemed earthbound on purpose. My friends back in Kansas would tell me that ghosts weren’t meant to stay on Earth, but they were hunters of monsters, and didn’t always remember that not everything supernatural was evil. I for one felt better knowing she was in the house with me.

A knock on the door took me out of my memories, and once I checked through the window, I opened the front door. Peach tulips in one hand, a black umbrella in the other, Mycroft was staring at me as if surprised. He handed me my flowers with a courtly bow, grabbing my free hand to place a lingering kiss on my fingers.

“You look stunning, Ms. Watson.”

“Thank you, sir.” His expression turned predatory and I bit my lower lip. The night hadn’t even started yet and I was thinking ahead to the end.

Motioning him inside, I saw a quick breeze tousle his hair a little, and bit back a laugh. Abigail seemed to like him. I thanked him as he ran a hand through his hair to fix it back to perfection.

“How...how did you know peach colored tulips are my favorite?” I quickly found a vase in the sitting room and we walked through the house to the spacious kitchen. He smiled a bit sheepishly and gave a faint shrug, enjoying my stammer.

“I may have seen a few of your interviews, simply to pass the time between meetings.” Liar. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and let my gaze go over him slowly, from head to toe. I looked up into his eyes, my eyebrow rising in challenge.

“Only a few? I’ll have to quiz you later to see what you’ve learned.” 

“And how will I know I’ve received a passing grade? Will you tutor me if I need extra assistance?” Was he feeling this attraction as much as I was? My heart was starting to beat a bit faster, and I fought to get my emotions under control.

“Well, I suppose that depends on how much you impress me during your test, Mr.Holmes,” I answered lightly. A soft breeze moved through the room, Abigail seemed interested in our guest. She hugged me quickly and I instinctively hugged back, not remembering my date was in the room.

Mycroft watched me as I turned to place the flowers on a nearby windowsill, a strange smile on his face. Almost like he knew something he wasn’t ready to share.

“She’s welcomed you.” The words made me turn back to him in surprise. 

“Your mother? I’m supposed to visit her this week. I, um heard you requested that I be invited to the family parties. That was very sweet.”

He moved closer, watching me. “I have never been referred to as sweet.” He held out an arm for me to take. “Shall we go? I’m eager to show off my beautiful date this evening.”

—-mmmmmm—

Entering Angelo’s, I was immediately greeted by John. He gave me a hug and led us over to a large table near the back of the restaurant. I was introduced to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, who shook my hand, and ordered me a beer to ‘start me off right’, according to him. 

“So you’re the famous author John’s been bragging about. Looks like writing runs in the family. Welcome to London.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say famous, but thank you. I’ve read quite a few blog posts that suggest you’re quite famous yourself.” I leaned in to whisper, “It can’t be easy working with Sherlock. I don’t think I’d have the patience. You must be a saint.”

Greg nodded, “He can be a challenge, no offense Mycroft.”

“I do know my brother, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said in a droll voice. “He’s never been one for social graces.” I laughed rather loudly at that, and squeezed Mycroft’s arm before turning to greet an older lady who’d tapped me on the shoulder, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Martha Hudson, dear. You must be John’s cousin from the States. Very glad to meet you. I see you’ve met Mycroft,” My date nodded a greeting to his brother’s landlady. I shook her hand, pleased to see her at my party.

“Mrs. Hudson! John’s told me loads of stories about you. I’m happy to put a face to the name. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Oh I wouldn’t have missed it, my dear. John speaks so highly of you, well, now that he speaks of you at all. You know what I mean!” Mycroft made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, and I gave him a quick glance of amusement before answering.

“Yes, I do. We haven’t really seen each other since we were teenagers, life sort of got in the way. My mother was ill,” at this, Mrs. Hudson clucked in sympathy, “and I didn’t want to leave her.” Mycroft put his arm around me, and I took a deep breath. The show of affection did not go unnoticed by the older woman, and a slight look of shock came over her face, but she quickly set her expression back to welcoming.

“I’ve read all of your books, is it true one will be made into a movie?”

“That’s the plan. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it works out that way.”

“Well, if you are ever over at Sherlock’s, please come by a visit, I’d love to get to know you better.” Meaning, she’d love to know why Mycroft initiated physical contact with me, I thought to myself, suppressing a giggle.

“Of course, and you’ll have to come visit me once I’m completely unpacked.”

After that, I wandered the party, meeting people and enjoying my evening. I saw Molly and Sherlock talking in a corner, and while I was wishing I could hear the conversation, I was sure I’d have a full report from the pathologist at some point. At the sound of dance music, I grinned. 

Before I could ask Mycroft to dance, my attention was drawn to a flash of red on the makeshift dance floor set up in the middle of the room. Anthea had pullled John into a tango, and I was shocked to see how well they seemed to move together.

Mycroft’s cell phone rang, and he excused himself. I glanced around the restaurant, wondering if I was being watched by anyone not on the guest list. A moment later, I was swung into the arms of someone definitely not on the list.

“Hello, Princess,” a deep voice purred into my ear. I rolled my eyes, looking at the demon in front of me.

“Hello, dad.”


	6. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, Princess,” a deep voice purred into my ear. I let out an exaggerated sigh, much to the amusement of the demon in front of me.

“Hello, Dad.” Crowley, the former Fergus Roderick MacLeod, AKA the former King of Hell, swung me around the small room, expertly avoiding the other dancers. His dark eyes assessed me quickly, noting my occasional glances towards the small office where Mycroft had gone to take his call.

“Already found a pet?” my father grinned with a boyish gleam in his eye. My mouth twisted in amusement as I struggled not to laugh. The music went from a tango into a Scottish reel and I was spun some more, laughter finally bursting from my lips. My father had sacrificed himself for the entire world once, and though I was not sure why or how he was allowed to materialize where people thought he was still alive, I would never question his love for me. 

“Mycroft is hardly a pet, Dad. He’s a highly intelligent man, and I find him charming.” 

“Hmm, women have always found me charming as well, that should warn you not to put too much trust in the man.” He looked over to where Anthea and John were deep in conversation. “So that’s the cousin. Well, I can see he is from the other side of the family. Doesn’t have a bit of MacLeod  
magnetism in him.” We carefully danced around Sherlock and Molly, who seemed in their own world. I bit my lip, wondering how their evening was going.

“His hair is the same color yours was, when you were human,” I reminded him, softly. “In fact, he’s known as quite the charmer with the ladies, or he was, before he married.”

“Ah yes, to the assassin,” my father nodded. “Our family does have a way of collecting dangerous companions. Your mother sends her love, by the way.”

I froze. “You - you’ve seen her? Is she with you?”

“No, princess, she’s somewhere pain can no longer reach her. Meaning, I can no longer reach her.” A hint of sadness swept across his face, and I kissed his cheek. “We are allowed to talk, every now and again. But she watches you. And,” he suddenly looked at me seriously, “she tells me of a stalker.”

“Stalker? It’s just some letters, really -” I stopped, as he raised an eyebrow in silence. “I’m not in any danger.”

“If your friend was human, I’d tend to agree. You have enough of me in you to thwart any normal annoyances. But he’s not, and though I can’t force you to go to Kansas for your own protection, I can ask that protection come to you.”

“Um, what exactly does that mean?” My father smiled, and I stared back at him.

“You need someone around you that is well versed in hunting demons. Someone who may have even been one, so he knows how they think.” I stared at him, dumbstruck. He wouldn’t have convinced Dean to come out here, would he? 

“You didn’t,” I said, not wanting him to answer. I noticed that Mycroft had exited the restaurant’s office and was searching for me. If he overheard this conversation, I’d be thrown out of my new home. John would think I was a lunatic. I tried not to hyperventilate.

“I did.” The smug look on my father’s face did nothing to calm me.

“No, there is no way he would fly out here.” My father was beaming, and I felt like I was ten years old again. He took my silence as a reason to keep talking.

“Despite the slight animosity he and I have had over the years, he adores you. I do hope you can set up another guest room for him, hunters don’t make a decent salary, you know.”

“He hasn’t set up a fake credit card?” I asked, sarcastically. This was getting ridiculous. 

“He didn’t have to, the account I set up for the boys is more than enough for him to fly here and keep an eye on you.” 

“Keep an eye - ” I glared at him, but the smile never left his face. “What exactly have you told Dean?”

“Just that his dear friend has a slight demon problem. As I can only materialize for an hour at a time, you need someone more,” he paused.

“Foolhardy? Overprotective? Ridiculous?” I snickered as my father rolled his eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. 

“I was going with ‘reliable’, you little heathen.” He grew serious again. “Please, my sweet, allow me a father’s concern. I know you are more than capable, but this demon who’s enchanted by you, he’s a nasty bit of work. Even I don’t know what he is capable of, and that is saying something. Your new friends won’t be able to locate him - until he’s found you.”

“Until who has found her?” Mycroft’s voice was behind me, and my father winked at me before turning to him to introduce himself. Holding out a hand, he gave Mycroft a smooth look of innocence. Mycroft shook it firmly, a curious expression on his face.

“You must be Mycroft Holmes, my name is Crowley. I must say Marie’s been most flattering about you. I’m here to visit my only child.” His brogue came out and I laughed internally. Going full Scottish were we? I smiled at my father, and Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“I was under the impression, your parents were both deceased.” Um, oops? How was I supposed to say he was correct in his assumption?

“A common misconception,” my dad answered. “I was away for a time, but managed to find a way back. As lovely as it was to meet you, I’m afraid I must be going.” He turned to me, “Dean’s plane lands bright and early tomorrow morning,, princess. I’m sure you will show him a lovely time.” Kissing my cheek, he wandered to the door, waving as he left. I turned to see Mycroft giving me a look I couldn’t quite fathom. 

“I read your file, Ms. Watson.. Your father isn’t alive.”

“You read my what? I have a file? Why exactly do I have a file? Who compiled it?” My mind was spinning. 

“Everyone who comes into close proximity to my family and...er….acquaintances, they have a background check done on them. I know for a fact that your father died a few years ago, though the particulars are sketchy at best.”

“Well, I can assure you that you just met my father. I’m not sure what information you have on me, but you could have just asked me anything you wanted to know.” I don’t know why I was getting upset. Given what he’d gone through with Eurus, he had every right to be cautious about new people entering his life. Still, it bothered me.

“Whoever he was, he seemed to know about your admirer. Does that mean you know who he is?”

“What? No, I don’t. And neither does my dad. He heard I was getting a few letters, and decided to check up on me. He asked a friend of mine to come stay with me, but I’m sure Dean won’t stay long. He’ll see that I have everything under control.”

“Dean? Should I be jealous?” The question caught me off guard, and I found myself in his arms as the next song began to play. He maneuvered me around the dance floor, holding me close. My breath caught as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I will have you know that a jealous Holmes is not something to be taken lightly.”

“Jealous? Of my friend? I didn’t realize that you had a right to be jealous.”

“You’re hiding things from me, my dear. But I have ways of getting information.” His lips ghosted my ear, and I shuddered, taking a deep breath. “We need to be alone so that I can properly interrogate you.”

My eyes closed, and I licked my lower lip. This man was going to be the death of me, and I didn’t care one bit. His eyes focused on my lips, and I was about to lean in to kiss him when Sherlock tapped him on the shoulder and asked to cut in for a dance. Before Mycroft could object, I was led away to dance with the detective.

“So,” I started, “you and Molly.”

“So,” he answered, “you and someone who looks awfully like Fergus MacLeod, eighteenth century tailor, and friend to pirates.” He tilted his head. “You look like him, your family must be quite old. Are you descended from the MacLeod line?”

“In a manner of speaking. How do you know about my ancestry? Do you have a file on me too?” My earlier frustration came back, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mycroft watching us closely. I was getting a bit impatient with men trying to test me.

“Should I? It appears you are quite intrigued by my brother. More concerning is the fact he seems equally intrigued by you. I must warn you, Ms. Watson, he isn’t one to entangle himself in romantic fantasy. He’s seeing you as a puzzle, nothing more.”

“First of all, you can call me Marie, as it is my name.” And the idea of anyone but Mycroft calling me Ms. Watson disturbed me, silly as it was. “Secondly, I’m sure your brother doesn’t need you of all people cock blocking him.” At his look of shock, I continued. “I’m well aware that the two of you seem to have some competition going to see who can be the least involved with the human race. But I’m not here because of your brother, I am reconnecting with my cousin, and if a friendship with Mycroft is in the cards, then I welcome it. You, on the other hand, seem intent on annoying me.”

“You’ve started a friendship with Molly Hooper. She’s very trusting, and forms attachments to people quite quickly.”

“Like with you?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face. He paused, clearly uncomfortable, then nodded.

“Quite. I have always had Molly’s best interests at heart. But you are an unknown entity. I would advise you to remember that she is under my protection.”

My eyes burned, meaning that a red tint was probably forming in them. I didn’t think about that, my anger getting the best of me as I snapped back at the tall, rude man.

“Molly is a sweetheart, and why she is in love with you is beyond my comprehension. I would never go out of my way to hurt a friend, though it seems to be your area of expertise.”

“You seem a bit threatened,” Sherlock drawled. 

“Are you seeing me as a threat? Why not go to your brother and have me thrown out? Tell John that I’m dangerous in some way and turn him against me. Really Sherlock, what is the issue here? You just met me, and have gone out of your way to make me feel unwelcome.”

“A threat? Hardly. Did you know your eyes are a bit bloodshot?” He seemed unsurprised and I closed my eyes, willing them to return to normal. “Does Mycroft suspect that you are more than you seem? Is there a reason your ‘friend’ Dean is coming to stay with you? Why would you need someone from your past to live with you when you have the British Government on a decidedly short leash?” Ah, so he had heard that conversation while dancing with Molly.

“What exactly do you want me to say?” I was beyond exasperated with the man, and yet he didn’t seem angry, or threatening. Dare I say he seemed almost amused? The music ended and he bowed to me, watching my face for - what exactly?

“You’ve been quite helpful, Marie. I think I understand the situation more. Thank you.” And with that, the great Sherlock Holmes went back to talking to Molly in the corner of the room, and I was left to stare blankly into space, unsure of what had just happened. 

Suddenly, I didn’t feel very festive. Sherlock feeling a bit suspicious of me seemed almost welcome, given who he was, but Mycroft looking at me with questions I just couldn’t answer, it was too much. This whole thing was too much. Why did I think I could have a normal life far from the trappings of Winchesters and demons? I felt sick.

Grabbing my purse and running out to hail a cab seemed to be the best option. I slid into one that was sitting outside of the restaurant, and found there was already a man in the back seat. He turned to me and I saw his eyes were completely black. Damn.

“I was wondering when we would get the chance to meet,” he said, reaching for me. Without thinking, I screamed. The cab door was flung open, and the man disappeared in a blaze of black smoke. I was pulled out of the car and I kicked out at the intruder who had pulled me out.

“Marie, stop, it’s me - John.” I looked at him, my eyes glowing red, and saw the shock on his face. “What is going on, why are your eyes like that?”

“Please just take me to your place. I need to talk to you about so much. Please.”

He seemed to shake out of his moment of shock. “Of course, But shouldn’t we tell everyone that you are leaving?”

“No, I don’t want to have them see me like this,” I stammered. “I just need to get out of here before either of the Holmes brothers know I’m gone.” 

“Fair enough, let’s go.”


	7. Revelations

John was hailing a cab when I looked back to see Mycroft through the window. He had been on his way to follow me out, but Mrs. Hudson seemed to have gotten to him first. She was waving her arms around looking quite upset. I had no idea what she was saying, but he looked like he wanted to hurt someone. Hoping that his intended victim was not me, I dove into the black cab that pulled up near us, my cousin close behind.

“It’ll be alright, Marie. We’ll get it sorted out, whatever it is.” He smiled and squeezed my hand.

“Thank you, John. I don’t know if you’ll want to have anything to do with me once I tell you everything, but I can’t do this without you anymore.”

“I don’t understand. Has something else happened?”

“Everything, and nothing,” I said sadly. “I’ve been hiding who I am for so long, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know if I can stop. And I just got you back in my life.”

“You know you could never do anything that would make me turn away from you, Ree.”

“I really hope that is true, Johnny,” I said, trying to keep from crying.

John could see I was upset, but my eyes seemed to be back to normal because the cabbie looked back at us and didn’t crash. My cousin gave Molly a call saying I wasn’t feeling well, and to give my apologies to the party goers. Then another call to Mrs. Holmes telling her he’d be at the manor house soon to see Rosie, and to thank her again for watching his daughter. He turned to look at me in concern as he hung up the phone.

“Are you ill? Is that what the eyes were about? They seem fine now, but I can examine you when we get to the house.”

“No, not ill. Sick to my stomach at the moment, but nothing a stiff drink and a good cry won’t help.” John held my hand, seeing my distress, and we didn’t say more until we were safely inside his home. 

I sat down and gratefully took the glass of whiskey he offered. I’m not ashamed to say that I gulped it down without taking a breath. I motioned for a second glass, and he filled it, getting one for himself. The concern in his eyes gave me pause. Would he be as caring once I told him what I was - what he was? I put down the glass and took a deep breath.

“Right, so you must think I’m over dramatic. I really thought I could just ease into this somewhere down the line, maybe never. I don’t know. John,” I looked at him with a hint of fear, “I need you to understand a few things about our family, and then I’ll understand if you cut me out of your life.” I picked up the glass and drained it. 

“You’re in some sort of trouble. The eyes, you said you weren’t ill, but I have to ask, is there some sort of addiction? I don’t know of anything that would have made your eyes seem to glow though. Is that what you wanted to tell me? We can get you help, you know. I do have a bit of experience with people battling addiction.” I almost laughed, he thought I was high?

“John, listen to me. I am not on drugs.” I twisted my lip into a wry grin. “Do you remember my father at all?”

“Uncle Fergus? Of course I do. He popped into your life off and on for decades. Still liked him though, he seemed to be a bit odd. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

“Yeah, so was I, until he came back. Listen John, my father isn’t like most men. He’s, well - he’s not really human.”

“People say that about Sherlock all the time, but he has his good points.”

“No, I mean - look. It’s probably better if I show you. You have to promise me that you won’t panic, or throw me out until I can properly explain everything to you. Please?”

He took a sip of his drink and nodded. “Anything you want to share with me if fine by me, Ree.”

“Okay then,” I stood up and closed my eyes, reaching out through my memories to the first time John and I had met. We were both three years old, and decided to play in my mother’s gardens, back in Chicago. Lifting my hand, I opened my eyes to see a sort of holographic movie playing in front of the now wide eyed John sitting on his sofa, drink in hand. 

“What is this?” He seemed fascinated, but I shook my head, afraid to look him in the eye. 

“I’m trying to show you what I am, and I’m a bit nervous, so just pay attention.” 

“Is this a trick, I don’t understand.” 

“Just watch, Johnny.” The images of the two children grew stronger. Little John’s ball rolled out into traffic and he ran after it. A large black car came out of nowhere to hit him, and my younger self screamed from where I stood too far to grab him. I didn’t think, raising my hand to pick my cousin up off the ground and fling him to the side of the road. He looked at me in shock, too far from him to have pushed him out of the way, and I started crying. My mother ran out and scooped John up from the ground, and hushed him when he tried telling her that I had used magic to save him. 

The images faded, and John frowned at me. “You saved me. I’d thought that was a dream, but it was real, wasn’t it? And all the other times you seemed to know who was a threat to me. Are you a witch? I can’t believe I’m actually asking that.” He gulped down the rest of his whiskey and poured us each another glass.

“No, not exactly. My dad didn’t die a few years ago. He actually died in 1723.” I explained everything to him. How my dad made a deal and eventually made his way up to King of Hell. I told him about the Winchesters, about how Dean was my best friend and very overprotective. I told him about how my mother had dabbled in witchcraft for years, and that was how she’d met my father. I told him how my stalker was a demon, and how I’d have to find ways to protect myself. All through the explanations, John asked intelligent questions, and we drank our way throughout the bottle of whiskey. The sky outside was dark, and a knock at the door startled us.

“John, I can’t face anyone right now. I’m drunk.”

“Well if you are, then I am too. Go hide in my room, and I’ll get rid of whoever it is. Then we can go up to the manor house, and you can meet Violet. If anyone can help sort this out, it's her. She's extremely rational and not easily flustered. Though I don't know what she'll say about this..”

“What? I can’t tell her about myself, she’s going to throw me out.” The knocking continued and John made a face at the door.

“Listen, she will not. Trust me, okay? Just go and sit in the other room. I’ll answer the damned door and get rid of whoever it is.”

Nodding, I made my way to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I could hear John answer the door, and Anthea’s voice.

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’m sure Mycroft will be right behind me. Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Marie had a headache and went home.”

“Liar, I can smell her perfume. Marie? Are you in here?” Her questions were cut off with a gasp, and I cracked open the door to see my cousin snogging my new friend quite throughoghly. After a few minutes, Anthea pulled back to stare at John.

“Um, not that I mind, but what the bloody hell was that for?” John didn’t answer, but kissed her again. I closed the door and smiled. They could have their few moments. Then I froze. She said Mycroft was close behind. I ran out of the room and the two of them broke apart like they’d been caught shoplifting.

“Mycroft is following you? I have to get out of here before he finds me.”

“Right, come on, my car is outside,” Anthea motioned to me to follow. “And you too, if you’d like to be dropped off at the Holmes.”

“Actually, we are on the way to see Violet,” John said, grabbing our coats. We hurried into Anthea’s car and she sped off towards the estate. John sat up front with her, and I didn’t question it. I tried to calm my thoughts until Anthea broke the silence to question me. 

“You’re friends with the Winchesters? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Um, maybe. Why?” My mind was already overloaded, this questioning was unexpected.

“I heard you through the door. Mycroft has been trying to get them to answer his emails and calls for the past few years, if not longer. They always seem to be just out of reach.”

“Why would Mycroft be trying to reach them?”

“You live in a haunted gatehouse and Abigail hasn’t scared you off, I think you know what I’m getting at, Marie. Mycroft needs some assistance with a few things, and he thought you would be a good resource.”

My heart dropped. Was Mycroft using me to get to my friends? Why would he need them? And he had to know who Dean was, why didn’t he say anything to me? Granted, I hadn’t given him much of a chance to talk to me tonight. I was too busy running away from pretty much everyone. I needed a distraction.

“Anthea, do you know what I am?” At her nod, I took a cleansing breath to clear my head. “And, does Mycroft?” She nodded again and John turned to her in surprise. 

“How does Mycroft know about Marie’s um, abilities?” 

“Because you have some of the same traits, and he’s been following your family’s history for some time.”

“I don’t have any traits to be studied,” John protested. Anthea reminded him that my mother and his were sisters and witchcraft can run in families. John sputtered a protest, he would have known if his mother was a witch.

“Did you know Marie was half demon?” 

Time stopped and my cousin glanced back at me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t say anything out of my shock, but John just looked at me and nodded before turning back to stare out of the window.

“I’m going to need more than whiskey before the night is over,” John murmured. Anthea grinned and glanced at me from the rear view mirror.

“I didn’t appreciate you running out of your party without me. I’m supposed to be your protection detail and you didn’t bother letting me know you were leaving. You’re lucky Mrs. Hudson was giving Mycroft an earful about Sherlock being a prat to you.” 

“He was?” John asked, as we reached the estate. “What was he saying?”

“Nothing important,” I muttered. “Just warning me off Molly and asking why I needed Dean to be in town when I obviously had Mycroft on a short leash.” Anthea bit back a laugh, and it did nothing to improve my mood. “Seriously, I don’t know how any of you deal with him.”

Anthea chuckled, “He’s overprotective of people he cares about. So is Mycroft - for two people trying to prove they are unemotional, they are both ridiculously loyal once they care.”

Parking the car, we quickly made our way inside and waited for Mrs. Holmes to join us. I found myself pacing back and forth and John went upstairs to check on Rosie before coming back down to let us know the baby was fast asleep. He poured us all a glass of whiskey and we found places to sit while we waited.

“John,” Violet said entering the room, “be a dear and pour me a glass of that, would you?” She smiled at me and I instinctively got up to hug her. I felt the tension slowly leave my body, and she held onto me a bit more to whisper that everything was going to be fine.

“That’s a girl,” she said as I nodded and sat back down on my chair. “Now then, let’s get started, Marie, I’m Violet Holmes as I’m sure you’ve figured out for yourself. Anthea tells me that my sons are being their usual charming selves. Are you all right?” She took the glass from John and took a healthy drink. 

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “I don’t know my own thoughts right now. I’m not sure how much you know about my, um, fan.”

“I know that you are getting unwelcome attention from someone who should know better. I know that your father is an old friend of our family and that he’s been by to explain a few things. I also know that this meeting is long overdue. I’m sure that both of my sons will be making an appearance here soon enough, so let’s get a few things out of the way.”

“You know my father?” I was stunned. Dad had never mentioned this to me, even after he knew John had formed a friendship with Sherlock. 

“Of course dear, the MacLeod family and the Rutherfords have a long history. As you can gather, I’m a Rutherford by birth. My great great something or other Samuel Rutherford was best friends with Fergus MacLeod, and also something of a scholar. He began writing out his friend’s biography shortly after an unfortunate incident in 1723.”

“My father’s, I mean, Fergus’s death.”

“Quite right, your father’s human death. Samuel Rutherford by chance is also marginally related to the Watson family. You and I are not related, by the way. Samuel’s half sister married into the Watson family so that branch is not blood related to the Rutherfords. Still, it does make us family. Witchcraft runs strong in the Rutherford line, we were almost annihilated in the 1500s from what my research shows, but a few of my ancestors made it through unscathed.” She took a drink of whiskey while the knowledge settled amongst us.

“So when you say that the Rutherford line has a history of witches, does that mean you’re a witch?” Trust John to get right to the point. 

“I like to consider myself more of a mage, or learned woman, to be honest. I don’t ride a broomstick, much as Mycroft would suggest otherwise, and I don’t boil babies in cauldrons. It’s more of a study of the natural world, and ways to circumvent known scientific conventions. As you may know, magic is simply science that hasn’t caught up to reality. I do some teaching, both of my sons, of course. My - daughter chose to study things I didn’t approve of, and Anthea has been a quick study, of course.”

“Wait, are you telling me that Sherlock Holmes believes in magic?” John asked, astonished. Violet laughed.

“Magic? Not at all. What Sherlock believes is in the power of his own mind. He wills the universe to give up its secrets and says that it is simply observation. But it’s a hyper focused use of his intellect, and gifts. What he thinks of as being a highly functioning sociopath is really his way of explaining how he can pull apart a situation and reduce it to its many parts. He then simply rejects the ordinary bits and focuses on what he needs to solve the puzzle.”

“Did you teach him all of that?” John was pouring another glass of whiskey and the rest of us refilled as well. This was fascinating information from Violet, and I wondered why my father had never told me any of this. Violet smiled and continued her explanation.

“Do you really think that his powers of deduction were just handed to him? No, he’s a master of grasping the different threads of reality around him, like a mathematical puzzle that he tears apart and puts back together within moments. His mind palace was formed from the many years of pulling threads out of the fabric of reality, excuse my flowery language, but it’s really the best way to explain it. He sees things that are there if you know how to look. Most of us don’t have that ability. I certainly don’t.”

“And Mycroft?” I asked. Violet’s smile grew and I felt warm and protected.

“Ah Mycroft. He has Sherlock’s abilities a hundred times magnified. But his true talent is bound in the history around him. He has a strong sense of psychometry.”

“That’s touching an object and reading its past,” I said slowly. “It’s usually debunked as not scientifically proven.”

“My dear girl, what sort of magic is? Mycroft takes it a bit past reading objects. He can touch a person and immediately get a reading of who, or what they are. Once he shakes hands with one of his politicians, he can instantly know the best way to work with them to obtain his objectives. It’s led him to much success in the government. And maybe with his next relationship?” Her sharp eyes met mine and I found myself blushing. 

“I don’t know that he thinks of me as more than a puzzle to be solved.”

“Marie, that’s what good relationships are,” Violet said taking my hand. “And if it’s worth it, the puzzles keep getting better, and more complex throughout your lives. Give him a chance, I promise you that he means well.”

As we finished our drinks, Violet invited us all to stay the night, and exhausted as I was, I agreed. John ran down to the gatehouse to get something for me to wear to bed. Anthea and I were given adjoining rooms, since she technically was still my security detail. John’s room was across from Anthea’s and Rosie was in the adjoining nursery next to his. 

I changed into some sleep shorts and a t-shirt and crawled into bed, though I couldn’t sleep. So much information and I needed to talk to my father again, but he could only appear once in a 24 hour period. I wondered about Dean, and if the Winchesters knew any of what I’d learned. Yawning, I stretched out and contemplated my eventful evening.


	8. Interlude

“I don’t know that he thinks of me as more than a puzzle to be solved.”

“Marie, that’s what good relationships are,” Violet said, taking my hand. “And if it’s worth it, the puzzles keep getting better, and more complex throughout your lives. Give him a chance, I promise you that he means well.”

I had wanted to ask her so many things, but I was exhausted, and in spite of seeing my stalker up close and personal earlier, I felt safe in the Holmes mansion. Part of me wanted to stay awake, because I knew Mycroft would be looking for me, and I did want to talk with him. But most of me just wanted to put this night behind me and think of all the ways I wanted to strangle my father for not telling me so much of the family’s history before I’d moved right into the middle of it. 

Wandering over to my room’s window, I gazed out across the estate. I could see my little guest house and imagined what it would be like to share a home with someone who loved me. I knew I could move to Scotland, but the house my father had bought me was a fortress, literally. The man had bought me a castle, strongly warded to fight off evil. But that was a place, and I wanted a home.

“You ran away from me,” a voice said softly, and I spun around to see Mycroft staring at me, his suit jacket casually thrown across a chair, and his shoes off by the fireplace in my room. When had he come into my room? I watched as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. Swallowing my questions, I didn’t realize that I was moving closer to him until he pulled me to him, his arms holding me so that I barely had room to move. Not that I wanted to. Not now, when he was looking at me like that.  
“I ran away from the situation,” I tried to explain. “I didn’t know you realized what I was, I was trying to protect you.”

His eyes grew darker as he leaned in to whisper into my ear. “You will always be free to go wherever you wish, just please never run from me again.” As I went to protest, I found his lips slanted across mine, and I was lost. This was not a restrained first kiss, this was a claiming of territory. I felt it then, his powers searching out mine, testing my boundaries. He was trying to see how much control I had over myself. Well, two could play at that game.

I pressed myself up against him and let my hips move against his, enjoying the hiss he made at the friction. Then I stepped back and pushed him away from me.  
“Why have you been trying to reach the Winchesters? Is that why you really rented the house to me, so that you could get access to them?” Was that guilt that flashed across his face, or something else?

“Marie, the fact that you are known to the Winchesters has been known to me for years.” Excuse me, what? “I have followed your career from the beginning of my brother’s acquaintance with your cousin because from all accounts, you and John Watson are more like siblings. That made you - a person of interest - at first.”

“At first. So now that you know me, you thought you could just tease me a bit and I’d put in a good word with the boys for you?” My rational self was telling me how wrong I was, but the amount of whiskey I’d had was telling me something completely different.

“No!” Mycroft’s shout startled me and we both looked at the bedroom door, hoping that we weren’t going to have to explain this to anyone. “No,” he said in a calmer voice. “You were never a means to an end. The more I learned about you, the more I needed to learn. Yes, I need the Winchesters to help on a small government matter. But you are not part of that, I swear to you. You were, you are - so much more than that.” He pulled me to him and I may have swooned a little. 

"I'm listening," I said, trying to keep my insecurities to myself. "Why should I believe you care about me at all?"

Mycroft bit his lower lip, and my eyes followed the movement. A trace of a smirk crossed his face, and he tilted my chin up so that I had to look at him. I could feel my pulse rushing through my body, and I know he could see the reaction I couldn't hide. 

“Your cousin had a photo of you at his flat. When I picked it up, I felt such a strong connection that I’d at first thought Sherlock had laced the frame with a hallucinogenic. But it was just my soul finding yours.”

He threaded his fingers through my hair. “I knew that we were meant to meet. I’ll find my own way to get the Winchesters to talk with me. But you - I don’t want to talk with you.”

“You - you don’t?” I stammered. In answer, he pulled me into his arms again, and convinced me that he wanted to do so much more than talk. Hours later, we fell asleep in each others arms. There would be a lot to discuss the next morning, but for now - everything was as it should be


	9. More decisions

The sun crept over the gardens of the Holmes estate, pausing to dip into windows and announce the beginning of a new day. Stretching, I slowly opened my eyes to see Mycroft looking down at me with an intensity that frankly, took my breath away. He leaned down and gently worried my bottom lip with his teeth, my sharp intake of breath the only sound in the room. 

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes,” I sighed into his mouth, before our kiss began again, hands and lips exploring in earnest. I could not get enough of him, and that scared me a little. It was like a floodgate opened the previous night, and I was caught in a current rushing - where exactly? Breaking apart, I smiled up at him, brushing hair from his forehead.

“I believe that I like you this way,” I smirked. “Disheveled from my touch.”

“Do you now? Well then, perhaps…” Whatever was going to be said was interrupted by three things happening simultaneously. My window was knocked open, a sprawling blur of flannel practically flying through, while at my door, Anthea burst into the room, gun drawn. Behind her, John was shouting my name and I was at once mortified and amused.

“Marie,” Dean Winchester lay on the floor, looking up at me and my guest with wide eyes. “Don’t move - everything is going to be alright.” He glanced over at Anthea. “If you think a gun is going to stop me from saving my friend, you don’t know me very well, sweetheart.”

“Mr. Winchester,” Anthea nodded, rolling her eyes. “Most people come calling through the front door, not a second story window at,” she pulled out her mobile and checked, “six-thirty in the morning.” John had raced into my room holding a lamp, then stopped, puzzled by the fact that there was a man on my floor. Then he noticed there was also one in my bed.

“Marie, what is going on here?”

Mycroft smirked, “If you don’t know, then Anthea isn’t being very polite to you.” I smacked him lightly and hid a grin. 

“Why are you all in my daughter’s room brandishing weapons?” Oh great, Dad was here.

“Crowley, you said Marie was in danger,” Dean spat. “She looks pretty good to me.”

“You ninny,” my father shot back, pinching his nose in despair. “I said that she had a demon stalker, not that she needed rescue from the British government. Don’t you know how to knock? And why are you here, and not her house?”

“Because her house is empty, and this was the next logical place to look for her,” Dean almost shouted. He looked at Anthea, eyes narrowed. “And just how do you know who I am?”  
“Because our office has been trying to get you to call us back for the past six months.” She holstered her gun on her thigh, earning a quick look from John, then held out her hand. “My name is Anthea, and you are a hard man to track down, Mr. Winchester.”

I snapped my fingers, bringing everyone’s attention to me. “This is all very lovely, but I’m going to ask you all to leave my bedroom,” I turned to Mycroft, “Not you, we’re not finished.” Was that a blush? Be still my racing heart. “But everyone that is currently not in this bed needs to be out of this room until I am showered, dressed, and caffeinated.” 

The group headed out of my room, hastily introducing themselves as Dean and my father were directed downstairs, and John and Anthea went to their rooms to get dressed. I turned to Mycroft and giggled. At the way his eyebrow raised, I laughed harder.

“All that, and you still haven’t managed to meet Dean,” I choked out and he promptly pulled me to him to finish what had been interrupted by my personal army.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Mycroft and I went downstairs, breakfast was being served to a full table of guests. Violet sat at one end of the table while an older man sat at the other, and conversations were going full speed as we walked into the room.

“Mycroft, good to see you, I trust you slept well?” Violet’s eyes had a spark of mirth in them, and a faint blush crept across his face. It was quite attractive.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Mother.” He leaned to kiss her cheek before introducing me to his father. 

“A pleasure,” Siger Holmes kissed my hand, making me smile. “Please sit with us and enjoy breakfast. I have heard so much about you, I feel I know you already.”

Mycroft and I sat next to each other, and if that wasn’t proper etiquette for this sort of thing, no one mentioned it. 

“Now then, since we are mostly here, we can begin discussing Marie’s stalker,” she said briskly. “I’ve taken the liberty to explain to Mr. Winchester just what we are dealing with, and he has agreed to help us hunt down the scoundrel. Anthea, have we any word on the letter that was sent to the guest house?”

“As a matter of fact, the report arrived just a few hours ago.” she pulled up something on her phone and pushed a few keys. “I’m sending the results to all of you on a secured group chat.” Dean was surprised when his burner phone pinged with an alert, but didn’t say anything. 

“We didn’t expect to get any fingerprints, and there were no obvious clues to the uninitiated. But as you can see from the tech’s findings, there was a high ratio of demonic energy. We expected this, given what is sending the messages, but this has a tinge of something else. Something - familiar.” 

Dean was studying his phone, and I noticed it was a higher end device than what he usually grabbed. More gifts from my father? He caught my eye and shrugged, before turning to the group. 

“From what this says, whatever is after Ree is based in the UK - why would it travel all the way to Chicago to harass her?” He looked up at Crowley who shook his head. 

“Not anything to do with her being my daughter, I checked. If anything, this is something that happened after she wrote her book. He seems to believe it was a love letter of sorts to him.”

“I was afraid of that, he’s been a bit of a nuisance,” Siger spoke up and Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his father. I swallowed my bit of buttered toast, and turned towards the older man.

“Am I to believe that you know who this person is?” Mycroft asked, reaching out to hold my hand. Siger shared a look with his wife, who nodded slightly.

“We do. He was asking for an introduction once he knew of Marie’s ties to our family. We brushed off his interest as being a bit of a bother, but didn’t know anything about letters to Marie until she moved here. We’ve been looking for Bartholemew quite thoroughly, but he’s hidden himself well.”

“Bartholemew,” I said softly. He’d never signed any of his letters and I had an idea, a crazy, dangerous idea, but I’d have to talk to my father privately about it. I looked over at him and gave him the look he well recognized as me wanting to chat with him. He nodded, but said nothing.

“So Marie should just move back to the States and my brother and I will make sure she’s protected.” Dean seemed to think the matter was closed, and dove into his breakfast like a man who’d been starved for weeks. We watched him in silence until he realized none of us were eating. He wiped his mouth quickly and looked around.

“What? Case closed, crisis averted. Crowley sent me out here to help the kid, so I’m going to help her - she’s not safe here.” He looked at my dad, “Seriously though, you could have just put her on a plane and called it a day, not that I mind the trip. Once we finish breakfast, she can pack up what she can fit in a suitcase and you can just send the rest back yourself.” 

Mycroft got a look like he was going to shoot lasers out of his eyes, and the way the Holmes family kept surprising me, I was only half certain that he could not do that. I gripped his hand, forcing myself to remain calm as I looked at my best friend.

“Dean, I am home. This wasn’t just to get away from Bartholmew. I wanted to come here and be near John. I’ve missed him, and I want to see his daughter grow up. I’m not going back to the States. I’m sorry my father dragged you out here, but I’m not going back.”

Anthea jumped in before he could answer. “Mr. Winchester, we do have other issues that we would like your assistance with besides this demon. Surely there are enough hunters in your country that you and your brother could consider moving here to help our government weed out some undesirables. I can assure you, you would be well compensated. And - you would still be around to protect Marie.” 

I was going to say that Marie could very well take care of herself, thank you very much, but Anthea was shrewd. I had to applaud her logic, it made sense that we have as many people here as possible to combat whatever threat this demon was going to make, and Mycroft really did need the Winchesters for something. I could see the wheels turning in Dean’s head as he stared from me, to Anthea, to Mycroft.

“Leave the US, like permanently?” 

“Maybe yes, maybe not - but at least until you make sure Marie is indeed out of danger, and perhaps help us on a few minor issues.” Mycroft’s voice was smooth and if we were alone, I would be on him so fast his head would spin. His eyes widened and I thought I’d said it out loud.

_ You're projecting your desires quite loudly, my love. _

I could hear him loud and clear and sent him a few images of what I’d like to be doing with him. He coughed and I could see the tips of his ears turn red. Seriously, this man blushed over the tiniest of things.

_ Really, you should know by now that there isn't anything tiny about me _

Ok, now it was time for me to blush. Dean was still thinking and then he smiled.

“You know, there really isn’t anything except Sammy for me back home. If he came out here, it might be a nice change for us. I’m in. Let me go call and explain things to him, then we can meet up later today to make our plans.” The rest of us nodded and he was gone after kissing the top of my head.

Mycroft and Anthea excused themselves to work on security measures since she’d update him on anything he should know. Violet and Sigur would explain everything they knew to John and myself. I excused myself for a few moments to chat with my father and told him my idea. 

“Yes, that may be simple enough to work. But he must know you’d learn his name eventually. He’s most likely prepared for anything trapping him by knowing his name.”

“If that is his actual name, Dad.” His eyes took on a gleam of understanding. Names had power, and demon names were even more infused with magic. If we could get his real name, we had a chance at vanquishing him. Kissing my forehead, he told me he’d return in 24 hours to set our trap. 

Smiling, I went to join the remainder of our small group and sat in the parlor with John as the Holmes explained how they knew my stalker.

“He’s been a fixture in this area since 1899,” Sigur said. “Way before our time of course, but the journals Violet’s mother kept are quite detailed on the demonic energy in this area. He was rejected by a cousin of Violet’s and has been a little off the rails ever since. Tell me, my dear, who did you base your heroine on in your book?”

I mentally slapped my head. My heroine was based on Aileen Rutherford, a woman from this area that had been murdered by her fiance, Edgar Morrow after she broke off their engagement. 

“Rutherford,” I sighed. “I used a Rutherford as the basis of my main character. I didn’t realize anything about your family then, I swear.” 

“It’s quite alright, my dear,” Violet said, patting my arm. “The important thing is we know who he is, and how his delusion found a reason to stalk you. We can take care of this matter now. I only thought he was nosing around here for information because you were John’s cousin. This does change a few things.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

John and I decided to go out for dinner later that evening to finally have some cousin time, and Violet agreed to watch my little cousin again. She really did seem to love children, and John mentioned that perhaps grandchildren would make her even happier. I kicked him when Violet wasn’t looking and he grinned back at me. 

Anthea and I took a walk back to my guest house so that I could get a few more changes of clothes and whatever else I’d need. We’d agreed with Violet that the main house was safer for everyone, and we’d all be staying there for the holidays anyway. 

“So, you and John,” I said innocently. She started walking faster, and I laughed. “You can try to get away, but I saw you kissing last night. Quite a bit, actually.”

“He kissed me!” She said, then bit her lip, annoyed that she’d even said that much. “Besides, he was drunk, it didn’t really mean anything.”

“When have you known my cousin to kiss someone simply because he was drunk?” I challenged, and she rolled her eyes. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” she repeated and I did laugh then, because she was not sounding like she believed it either. 

We reached the cottage, and I realized Sherlock had never given me my key. Anthea reached around me and within moments, had opened the door. She shrugged at my mock glare and we went inside. Immediately, I was hugged by Abigail and I could feel the rush of affection around me. 

“I’m sorry Abigail, I didn’t mean for you to worry,” I soothed her, and I could feel her drift away, but not leave the room. “I’m having a bit of an issue with a persistent suitor, so if you feel anything dangerous, please let me know. I don’t want either of us to be surprised by letting our guard down.” The rush of warmth surrounded me again, and I knew she’d understood me.

I turned to Anthea, “I can’t leave Abigail unprotected. She’ll be here alone if Bartholemew comes looking for me.”

“Abigail haunts the grounds, not just this house,” Anthea assured me. “I think she’s just been here because it’s been a while since someone occupied this house.”

I was relieved by that and looked up to the ceiling. “Abigail, I’m going to be up at the main house for the holidays. If you need me, find me there, please.”

Anthea and I packed a few things and went back to the main house.


	10. Getting to the truth

“So, about this Bartholemew,” Anthea said as we walked towards the larger house. “You do realize that we’ll need to form a united front on this situation. We have far too many cooks and the broth can turn muddy.”

“Is that an actual English saying?” I said, laughing, and Anthea crossed her eyes at me, making me laugh harder. The sun had come out now, brief fluffy clouds floating lazily across the sky, and rain wasn’t in the forecast until later in the evening. It was peaceful and lovely, and one could almost forget there was a crazed demon out there, waiting to pounce.

“You know as well as I do that Mycroft will try to take over this whole thing. Then there is your father, Dean Winchester, your cousin, and god help us, Sherlock. It’s bound to be a mess if we don’t establish some chain of command.”

“Oh, I know,” I acknowledged. “All this testosterone will be clashing soon enough. I suppose the only logical thing to do is to take control ourselves before the men folk start barking orders.”

Shaking hands, we discussed a few strategies, stopping now and then to admire the changing leaves. As we walked, I began feeling like I was being watched. At first, I thought it was Abigail, watching out for me, but my breath seemed to quicken, the hair on the back of my neck rising in warning. Anthea noticed my hesitation, and took out her phone, sending off a text message. I wasn’t really paying attention until I could see four hazy shadows surrounding us, spaced apart to put us in the middle of a square of sorts. 

“Keep walking,” she said, not looking up from her mobile, “these are escorts of a sort, they’ll block him until we reach the safety of the manor.”

I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about, because I could hear him in my thoughts, telling me that I was rude for jumping out of the car the night before. Telling me that he was going to find me when I wasn’t surrounded by do-gooders, and we were going to get very close, as was fitting for a married couple. I tried to ignore it, but I could almost feel his arms around me, pulling me to walk away from Anthea and into the woods. The shadow figures blocked most of the call, but I could feel my legs want to move and I was getting a bit frightened.

“Oh god,” I murmured and Anthea shook her head. 

“Whatever you are hearing, block it out, Ree. Don’t let him in, we’re almost at the house.”

“He’s never been able to make me want to go to him before,” I whispered. 

“It’s because he’s stronger here, where he lived,” she whispered back, tapping a few more keys. “Violet is going to have to strengthen the wards, he’s getting bold.”

The muscles in my legs seemed to tense, then just as quickly as the sensations had started, they were abruptly stopped. An angry gust of wind surrounded us, blowing our hair and seeming to startle my shadow warriors. Anthea and I reached for each other’s hand and got ready to run the last hundred feet to the manor.

There was an angry howl in the distance, then an answering shriek from something nearby, scattering leaves as they fell from the colorful trees. It became a whirlwind of leaves and faint perfume. Anthea seemed a bit stunned, taking a deep breath and looking around now, seemingly calmer than she had been before. 

“Abigail,” she said,referencing the lavender scent still floating around us, and I sent out a quick thank you to my ghost. A gentle breeze floated past my face, like a hand brushing hair back, and I felt safe again.

“Thank you, Abigail,” I whispered, tears starting to form. Swallowing quickly, I nodded to Anthea and we made our way back to safety.

Sherlock and Molly were waiting in the foyer when Anthea and I walked into the house. I held out my hand and after a short staring contest, the man child handed over my key. I smiled sweetly and thanked him for giving me the key to my house. I could see him starting to say it wasn’t mine, but Mycroft interrupted us, walking in to give me a hug and a blissful kiss that had his brother’s eyes widen slightly and Molly to squeal with joy.

“So you are a proper couple?” she asked and Sherlock grunted something unintelligible but sounding suspiciously like ‘goldfish’. My brow raised in silent reproach and he had the sense to not test me further.

“We are,” Mycroft admitted, and looked at me. Then he looked at me again with narrowed eyes, reaching for my hand. Too late, I remembered that he got his information through touch, and tried to pull my hand away. It didn’t work; his glare was starting to unnerve me.

“She obviously got away, brother mine,” Sherlock drawled, and my attention was drawn away from Mycroft for a moment. At my stare, he shrugged.

“I smell lavender and your heart rate is still elevated. Obviously Abigail had to sort you out.”

“You went out unprotected?”

It was Anthea’s turn to glare. “Oi, she had me, you big ponce.” Molly and I caught each other's eye and started laughing. Apparently, Anthea started slipping with her elegance once Mycroft annoyed her. “She also has Abigail, who is far better equipped to fight off something supernatural than you are.”

“Fighting off what?” Dean was back from wherever he’d been and was waiting for an answer. Anthea and I gave them the short version and informed them that whatever happened next, was my decision and not theirs. 

I thought Mycroft was going to argue, but he nodded. “Quite right. And that brings me to why I am actually glad that Mr. Winchester is here. If we could all go to the parlor, I think it’s time we had a meeting of sorts. Dr. Watson is already there, along with my parents.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Once we were all settled on various couches and chairs, Mycroft stood near the huge fireplace and raised his hand to get our attention. I poured myself a glass of lemonade and sat back to listen.

“This isn’t the way I saw this happening, but things are moving along at a greater pace than I had anticipated. As you all now know, the Holmes family is one of the few families in the UK that possess certain skills. We have used these skills for the betterment of our homes and our people,” he glanced at Sherlock, “for the most part.” He ignored his brother sticking his tongue out and moved on to his next point.

“There have always been threats to these shores due to humans not respecting boundaries. We’ve encroached on lands claimed by creatures best left alone. We’ve provoked attacks when we should have retreated. In short, we are not popular with the supernatural realm.”

“If this is another of your fairy tales, I am leaving,” Sherlock rose, but Molly yanked him down and told him to shut up. I choked back a laugh. Our little Molly was growing some courage. He glanced at her wide eyed and his mother, who was sitting on his other side, slapped his leg. 

“Hush, and let the grown ups chat,” she admonished. He pouted, but didn’t make a move to get up again. Mycroft waited a few moments, then started speaking again. 

“As I was saying, there are those who do not want us near their realms. For the most part, we have struck bargains, made treaties, kept promises. But there have always been those who want to break these agreements and start wars that, quite frankly, humans would have no way to win. So I, and a few of the other families have started a council of sorts. We are, for lack of a better phrase, gatekeepers between this world and the one beyond. We have those on the other side providing the same service, keeping threats from crossing over to our world.”

“And where do we fit in, exactly?” Molly wanted to know.

“We don’t, Molly - we aren’t involved in this fantasy,” Sherlock said and she smacked him with a pillow. His mother pinched his thigh and he yelped, causing me no small bit of amusement.

“Sherlock, I would advise you to watch your tone. Just because you refuse to acknowledge your heritage does not mean I will sit here and have my battles mocked.”

He rolled his eyes and held up his hands. “Fine, I will keep quiet for the duration.”

“Like hell,” John muttered and Anthea’s smirk actually made my cousin blush. In spite of things, I found that comforting.

“I propose that we form a task group to investigate and eliminate threats to our world. In this room are highly intelligent, trained professionals. Dr. Hooper, your pathology papers are renowned for their content and your theories are sound. Dr. Watson, your ability of discretion, and your unimpeachable character make you a worthy addition to our group. Mr. Winchester, you and your brother are legendary in your battles.”

“And I suppose being half demon, I have skills you need as well,” I smiled. 

Sherlock muttered something about  
skills of mine Mycroft seemed to need and this time I threw a piece of ice from my lemonade at him. 

“Seems to me you’d be better off just keeping yourself quiet,” John mused and the detective crossed his arms and flung himself back onto the couch, Molly rubbing his back gently. At the contact, he seemed to relax, and I bit my lip to keep from giggling. 

“We’d be working with demons?” Dean asked. I looked at him with amusement.

“You’ve worked with demons for years,” I said, and he had the good sense to grin back at me and nod. 

“Fair enough.” He turned to Mycroft. “Sam’s on his way here, I gave him the bare bones on things, burner phones or not, it’s better to do this face to face. But once he gets the low down, we’ll give you our answer.” 

“Fair enough,” Mycroft allowed. Anthea stretched and said she was going to take a nap. Sherlock and Molly had to get back to Bart’s to finish up a case, and John went with them. As we all went our separate ways, Mycroft waited until we were alone to spin me around, kissing me like we’d been apart for years. When he allowed me to pull back, I looked at him, dazed.

“Not that I minded that, but what was it for?”

“I have the idea that you aren’t going to like what I’m about to say next, and I wanted a chance to kiss you thoroughly before you argued about your ability to protect yourself.”

I stood there waiting and finally our staring contest was broken by him closing his eyes.  
“Marie, I think you need to go into hiding.”


	11. The noose tightens

_Mycroft waited until we were alone to spin me around, kissing me like we’d been apart for years. When he allowed me to pull back, I looked at him, dazed.  
“Not that I minded that, but what was it for?”  
“I have the idea that you aren’t going to like what I’m about to say next, and I wanted a chance to kiss you thoroughly before you argued about your ability to protect yourself.”  
I stood there waiting and finally our staring contest was broken by him closing his eyes.  
“Marie, I think you need to go into hiding.”_

I stood there, stunned at his comment before laughing. Did he really think I was some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued? I was half demon, half witch and completely capable of protecting myself. A little voice inside of me asked, Then why are you here being protected by others, hiding away from a demon stalker? I didn’t have an answer.

  
“Mycroft, you’ve known me less than two days. You haven’t seen me fight, you have no idea what I can do. To even suggest that I would run away from this and leave you to clean up my mess,” I was in the middle of a rant until his arms found their way around me and his clear eyes stared into mine.

  
“You little fool, I do know you, I’ve known you for far longer than you have even been aware of my existence. I’ve followed your life as if it was the piece of my own that I’ve been missing. I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is. No one has ever accused me of emotion, because it is all for you.”

  
He took a step back, trying to control his agitation. “The only way we are going to get Bartholemew to make a move is if you are off the playing field. You aren’t running away, you are helping us flush him out. Really, do you have so little regard for how I feel? How we all feel?”

  
I stood frozen, his words a jumble of emotion and fear.

  
“You love me?”

  
He looked at me as if I was crazy. “That is what you are taking away from what I just said?”

  
“Yes.”

  
He ran a hand through thinning hair and stared at the ceiling. There was a moment when I was sure he was going to walk away from me, but he took my hand and kissed it gently.“Can we please start this conversation over?”

  
“Of course. But you can’t take it back. You love me.”

  
Shaking his head, he pulled me into a small office, locking the door after us. Guiding me to a couch, we sat, fingers entwined, hearts as well.

  
“Tell me,” I whispered.

  
“You will help…” he was cut off by my lips on his.

  
“Not that.”

  
“I love you.” No pretense, no flowery phrases, just a cut and dried fact as far as Mycroft was concerned. I climbed into his lap, helping him take off his suit jacket, as he unzipped the back of my dress. Things were fast and wordless, and I’m sure we both saw stars as we finished.  
“Now, you can tell me your plan,” I smiled, handing him back his tie.

  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
Later that evening, I went back to Abigail’s little cottage to get some notes for my next book. I had the small key that I had found and went to my desk to open it. There was no treasure map, no love letter. But what I found was more important.

  
“Dear Edgar, I cannot in good faith marry a man with your unusual appetites. It goes against everything that I hold dear. I wish you well, and hope that you find another to share your life. Please, never contact me again. Sincerely, Aileen Abigail Rutherford.”

  
There was also a very old newspaper clipping of how Aileen was murdered by her fiance. I had no idea who had put these items into her desk, but it was just one more mystery I might never solve. It was clicking into place now. The reason that Abigail had attacked Bartholemew was not just for my benefit. The two souls had been in battle for quite some time. The Aileen Rutherford I had based my book on was Abigail. It occurred to me that I now had his real name. My father could help the others vanquish him. I had to help Abigail break free from this house, and her past.

  
A hesitant breeze stroked my face, and I smiled. “I’m not angry with you for not telling me. You probably thought he was here for you. Thank you for protecting me.” I sat down, looking out my office window. A figure was coming closer and I breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Dean.He climbed through my office window and gave me a hug. Abigail blew some air between us and I laughed. He looked around, trying to see where the breeze had come from. I explained what I had found out about Abigail and Edgar and he whistled a low tone of surprise.

  
“So you write a book about a woman killed by her fiance, that turns out to be a woman at this estate that happens to be here as a ghost, and the fiance ends up being a demon who is after you after killing her. Did I get that right?”

  
“Uh yeah?”

  
Dean shook his head, smirking. “Why is it that you always seem to get in over your head just by being yourself?”

  
“Um, just lucky I guess?”

  
A knock on the door surprised us both and I opened it to find Sherlock standing there, hands in his coat pockets. “I would like to speak with you. Now.” There was an undercurrent of anger there and I moved aside to let the man into my home.

  
“And what can I do for you, Sherlock?” Dean just stood there, watching the conversation, then shrugged and walked into my kitchen, most likely to find a beer. He knew I could handle this on my own.

  
“Mycroft is convinced that you are the cause of a demon,” he spat the word out, “showing up here and causing our family some trouble. How long is this farce to continue. What is it that you want from my family? Demons are not real, and you are obviously here to get something from us.”

  
“You believe in Abigail.”

  
“What?” He seemed confused.

  
“You. Believe. In. Abigail. She is a ghost; you have mentioned her on more than one occasion. You know the supernatural realm is real and yet you insist on pretending that you are oblivious to the possibility. You taunt your mother with your attitude constantly. My question to you is, what are you wanting from your family?”

  
Sherlock glared at me, raising a finger to say something bracing and logical, but as Dean had come back into the room at my last question, he just threw himself down on a chair and folded his arms. “I do not wish to have this conversation with an audience.” He looked at Dean, “Leave.”

  
“No.” Dean smiled and drank more of his beer, sighing as he sat down on another chair nearby.

  
“Fine. We’ll do this your way. My family has always had some ridiculous idea that they were placed on earth to protect others. They have put themselves in danger for the greater good far too often. Things are changing. Children are being born into our family, the days of dangerous escapades are growing to an end. Molly….” he stopped, realizing what he’d said.

  
“You’re in love with Molly,” I said, smiling. “You’re afraid for her. This isn’t about me at all. You just have come to the realization that you need to stop jumping from buildings and rushing head first into stupid situations because you have someone you love.”

  
“Don’t be pedantic. Sentiment -”

  
“Love. Sherlock, admit it. You love Molly and you want to keep her safe. It’s ok, you can admit it. Dean and I won’t tease you.”

  
Dean looked as though I was insane for promising such a thing, but I gave him a warning look and he grinned, finishing his beer.  
“Well, I’m going upstairs to bunk tonight. If ol’ Edgar comes calling here later, we should have someone ready to say hello.”

  
He raced upstairs to do who knew what, and I grinned before turning back to the scowling detective.

  
“Getting rid of me isn’t going to solve anything. Go talk with Molly and sort it out. I have things to do before ol’ Edgar shows up again.” Standing up, I pushed Sherlock out the door and grabbed the letter and clipping from my office, putting them into my purse, before shouting goodbye to Dean and going back up to the main house.

  
My father was waiting for me when I arrived and I got him up to speed on what had been happening. He sat down, trying to make sense of everything I had told him.  
“Edgar. Why didn’t I put that together? Well, it’s as your boy toy has said, you will have to hide to flush him out. A wee bit of a battle, and we can send him back to Hell. Maybe I’ll escort him there, see what they’ve done with the place.”

  
He made himself a drink and saluted me with the whiskey glass.  
“Well then. We have a plan, let’s get the children together and get this show on the road. Then your boyfriend can give us the deets on our next assignment, eh?”


End file.
